saige | t.lupin

intro.

Sadness isn't an emotion, it's a choice. Just like you can switch off a light switch and plunge into darkness by a simple flick of the hand, despair can be regulated, controlled. Likewise, all feeling can be controlled. Saige Grace Stirling was a firm believer in this philosophy. Dwelling on the potential emotions you may have will only make you suffer twice. No matter how much you wanted to scream until your voice was but a whisper in the wind, how badly you wanted, needed, to cry so violently and claw at your hair until it started coming out in clumps, the world would not take pity on you. In the end, you'll either be left standing in the dust or soaring through success. Saige knew which position she wanted to be in, and she would make sure that she would get there. She wouldn't dwell on the past, no matter how badly the hurt was clawing beneath the surface of her iron clad facade. She was a fighter, and she wasn't going to give up now.

Saige lived in the quiet, secluded countryside of England. Her mother was a witch, destined to be sorted into Slytherin house. Her grandparents were Death Eaters you see, loyal to the Dark Lord, and with the inevitable approach of war, her mother was sent to Beauxbatons as a first year to embark on her magical schooling. She was terrified of this life for her future children, for the magical world was not a safe one, so she abandoned her witch heritage and settled into muggle life, marrying Saige's father and eventually having a child.

Saige was a happy child. She skipped through the fields that surrounded her house, ignoring the yelling and fighting that filtered through the windows of her parents room. It was normal for mummy and daddy to fight, right? Saige had been conditioned to anticipate the violent tendencies of her parents. Truth be told, she didn't know any better.

On the morning of Saige's 11th birthday, her mother was rattled with fear as an ornate owl perched on the kitchen windowsill holding a letter in its beak, adorning the Hogwarts symbol.

"Surely not," she whispered to herself. She was sure that Saige wouldn't possess magic, as she had never shown any signs as a child.

Her father was furious. How, how could she keep such a secret from him? His wife and child were witches and he had been so oblivious until the day his wife hesitantly unravelled her story. Saige waited in anticipation for her father's reaction as they sat around the dining table. A picture of a happy family. Her father screamed and stormed the house down, throwing crystal glasses and pushing over antique lamps. This was the day that Saige decided to simply switch off her emotions. If she couldn't, wouldn't, feel the wrath of her father or the fear of her mother coursing through her veins, then she wouldn't be hurt by it.