Chapter 40: Life, Death, and Desire

Life, Death, and Desire

The phoenix pulled on his earring the entire way to the headmaster's office and even upon arrival at the gargoyle he would not let go.

"I don't suppose you can tell me the password, can you?" Sage asked the bird acidly. "I didn't think so."

Fawkes eyed him warily, flapping his wings in Sage's face in what seemed like an incredibly purposeful manner.

"Phoenixes," he hissed.

The bird's amber eyes narrowed at him and then he started squawking again.

"Not again."

Sage rubbed the one temple he could get to with a bird attached to his face and closed his eyes, lamenting his impending headache.

When he opened the eyes, the door had opened.

"Figures," he said aloud, before stepping onto the staircase.

When he knocked on the large wooden doors before him, he was answered by the headmaster's voice from inside, "It's open."

He had been inside this office so many times, it seemed. Perhaps the circumstances of those visits made it seem a lot more frequent than it actually was. Sage hoped that this visit was of a more congenial manner. Perhaps the headmaster wanted to hear about Sage's trip, shortened though it was. Hopefully Dumbledore did not want to admonish him for either impulsivity or poor decisions, because Sage had it in his mind that he had done the right thing by coming back.

Dumbledore came down the stairs slowly, his eyes resting on Sage like a beam of light. His robes of impressive deep blue made him look potent beyond his years. The slight smile on his face and his cheeks trembling to keep in his chuckle made Sage suddenly self-conscious about the bird on his face.

The old wizard put a hand up to his mouth, his eyes giving himself away.

Sage could not handle it any longer. He could not just stand there and be laughed at. How could the man simply stand there looking at him and not call Fawkes off him?

Sage's frustration with his situation got the better of his mouth, and he replied to the headmaster's funny looks with more acerbity than he normally would.

"If you don't mind sir, could we exchange pleasantries after you've gotten your esteemed phoenix off my face."

Dumbledore released his chuckle, not able to contain his mirth any longer. The boy had turned out too much like Severus is manner of mouth, it was blatantly comical. Sage's displeasure was only too apparent, but even that served to give Dumbledore the laugh that he so needed.

After his chortles subsided, Dumbledore shook his finger at Fawkes and said, "Now Fawkes, you should not let your relationship with and opinions of Severus cloud your opinions of his nephew."

Sage raised an eyebrow, again questioning the sanity of the world's most powerful wizard.

"You see, Sage, Fawkes and Severus do not get on at all. They never have. I believe it traces back to Severus's time as a student. I recall him threatening to set a fire to Fawkes, 'in hopes that you will not yet again be reborn from your dismal ashes'. I believe that is what he said."

Fawkes squawked again, shaking Sage's ear.

"Yes, Fawkes, I know that Sage looks a great deal like Severus, but he is not Severus. You will notice he is a deal better looking than Severus was when he was a student."

Sage could not help but roll his eyes, thinking just get this damned bird off me!

At long last, Dumbledore coaxed Fawkes to let go of Sage's earring.

"Tempermental creatures, phoenixes." He gave Sage a small smile, the comedy of the moment completely gone. "Now then, you have returned."

Sage raised an eyebrow thinking that the man was going to keep talking, but the headmaster just looked at him expectantly.

"Yes sir, I have."

The headmaster cleared his throat, "Well then, have a seat."

Sage grumbled and sat down. He waited for Dumbledore to sit, but the old wizard did not, instead he moved to look out the window.

"I will tell you that I have not seen Severus so absolutely beside himself in quite a long time. He sees your 'defiance,' as he said, as completely without any merit." He paused for a few moments. "I will head straight for the matter that he should have been most concerned about, but his temper rather prevent that from ever occuring." At this pause the headmaster gave Sage a knowing and penetrating look over his half-moon spectacles. "I trust, rather I know, that you would not return in a completely capricious manner. Not after the lengths you have gone through to find your proper path. So what was it that made you come back before you finished your Rite of Passage?"

Sage stared at him, wondering what he should say and how much he should say. He couldn't help but feel, suddenly, that he was more than half a fool for coming back, and for more than one reason.

"Things that I have seen have led me to believe that something is going to happen, sir, and I felt a need to be here," he stated finally.

Dumbledore looked at him over his spectacles again, then turned to face him. It was a slightly harsh look. There was something definitely very serious about the man's demeanor.

"Something? Something is always going to happen, Sage. Being vague is not going to end this conversation sooner. If you know something, you must tell me, no matter how foolish it might seem in your head. It has importance to it, especially in times like these."

He had emphasized his last few words in a way that made Sage's hand go to his forearm in a strangely reflexive sort of way.

"I'm sure it is nothing, headmaster. I had a dream, I've had dreams."

"Nothing, Sage, would not have made you leave there. What was the content of these dreams?"

"Well, sir, most of them I have not been able to remember, nor were they coherent. I just saw snippets of things, felt things. Dread. Death." He stopped.

Dumbledore wandered back to his desk and sat down finally.

"Nothing that you say, no reason that you could give for coming back, will cause me to think any the less of you, Sage. However, your honesty right now is of the utmost importance. I need the details, no matter how fragmented."

Sage sighed brutally. He knew that he couldn't refuse and he wasn't going to, but he did not like to be interrogated.

"The images that I saw in my early dreams were of blood running down Potter's arm. There was a graveyard as well. A fog, and a large black snake. That Hufflepuff, Diggory, laying in the dirt." Sage stopped and shook his head negatively. "It sounds so meaningless when I say it out loud and describe it, but it's not what I saw, it's what I felt. This, coupled with the fact that Potter's name just shows up in the Goblet. I can't ignore the fact that someone, someone here, is trying to do something with Harry, and that something has everything to do with this," Sage said, pulling up his sleeve to expose the Mark. The Mark looked nothing like it had when he had shown Hermione, in fact, he had never seen it look like this. Instead of being a few shades darker than his white skin, it was brown and stood out very easily.

Dumbledore appraised the Mark for a moment before looking up at Sage's face.

"Yes, your uncle has shown me and warned me that it has feeling now. A sign of foreboding for certain. Yours, however, is darker than his. A curiousity… You've said that your dreams in the beginning were fragmented. This leads me to believe that you have had more recent ones which have been clearer. Perhaps these are the ones that drove you to return. Tell me about those?"

Sage's eyes widened as his mind ran through the contents of the dream that had made him return. He shifted uncomfortably. Was he supposed to say that he came back because he was angry that Harry didn't do anything to help them, to help Hermione. It sounded so completely stupid and childish. It would sound as if he came back because he figured that he could help them better, but that wasn't true. He cocked his head with his thoughts. Or could it that have been true? Did he come back because he felt that he could do something that Harry could not?

"I saw, er, Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the water and a shark was there. It looked as if it were preparing to attack. The shark was gnashing its teeth, and then it… ended."

Dumbledore frowned, but only lightly. "You are aware that the second task involves taking the person each champion would miss the most and placing them underwater for the champion to retrieve, I trust?"

"Well, sir, I knew it involved the lake, but I didn't know that."

"This specifically is what made you come back?"

Sage shrugged, a welcome relieve to the stiff posture his body had taken on. "I suppose so, sir."

"What I am going to ask of you, you can feel free to refuse me, but I would like you to let me see these memories of your dreams."

Sage shifted again, "See them?"

"If you will allow me to use legilimency on you, of course."

Dumbledore lost sight of none of Sage's telling movements, no matter how small they were. The headmaster had learned that if you wanted to read a Snape, you had to pay attention to the minute details. There was something that Sage felt uncomfortable with him knowing, that much was very obvious.

"If you believe it will help," Sage answered finally, sounding rather resigned.

When Sage felt the swirl of images stop, he knew it was over. He exhaled deeply and tried to keep his reaction in check.

Dumbledore offered him a slight smile. After a moment of silence, he stood and walked over to a cabinet. He proceeded to empty his thoughts into a pensieve. No doubt he wanted to examine Sage's dream experiences more closely. Now, however, was not the time for examining that. He had called for Sage for a much more concerning reason. With the rate at which the Mark was changing on Severus's arm, Voldemort would not be lying dormant much longer. Sage needed to make some drastic leaps in fairly little time, and now that he was back at Hogwarts, well, the prospects weren't good. Fate, however, never seemed to work in the way that Dumbledore wanted it to.

Unfortunately, Dumbledore could not simply give Sage the answer, he would have to find it for himself. What the headmaster could do was prod the process along a little bit.

"Do you remember when I told you, Sage, that you need to accept your emotions and feelings for what they are because denying them leads to unbalance?"

Sage sat back in his chair slightly, "Yes, I remember."

"Surely you understand now why balance is important, after your trip?"

"Yes sir. It's important because it is tied in with how well I can use my powers."

Dumbledore smiled again. At least the conversation was going well and the trip to Lyon Llyonyss was not for nothing.

"And how well you can use your powers is important because…"

Sage scowled slightly, this was a little below his ability level.

"Of the Prophecies, sir."

The headmaster cleared his throat and began pacing.

"Then why do you continue to deny them?"

"Excuse me?"

Dumbledore shot him a brief glare over his glasses. Sage scowled and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'm not denying them, sir, I am fully aware of them."

The older wizard placed his fingertips on his desks and smiled broadly. He seemed genuinely pleased.

"Delightful, share one with me."

Sage floundered, pulling his head back in shock. He felt irritation rise to his skin and it began to bubble underneath.

"I'd rather not, sir."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, "Simply another form of denial. You neither express nor share your feelings and emotions, you push them down and prefer not to deal with them. You are not helping yourself to gain balance, Sage."

"Those feelings and emotions will put people in danger," he paused and then muttered, "Myself included."

"Those very same people are in danger now, you are in danger now," Dumbledore challenged back. "If Voldemort were to attack now, with you like this, all of us would be in danger, yourself included. Your unbalance puts people in danger, many more people than the expression of your feelings would. You do not understand at all what it was you needed to understand in coming back from Lyon Llyonyss."

Scowling, Sage crossed his arms. It is not the same. I'd rather not be the cause of the danger.

Dumbledore walked over in front of the desk and look at Sage warmly. "There is no reason to not allow yourself what you desire, Sage, especially when it is within your power to have. Especially when nothing but good can come of it."

"There is nothing, professor, nothing that I so desire." Sage felt that although his words were strong and his face sure, he was still convincing himself. "It is overly optimistic to think that only good things can come of it," he added softly in a bitter tone.

"You would try to deceive me as much as you would try to deceive yourself. What you would do well too remember is that there is nothing for you to gain by denying yourself. You are not Severus and you have not had his circumstances, there is no reason for things to be this way. I have tried to help your uncle, Sage, he is too far beyond it I fear, for me to intervene. But you, Sage, it is not to late for you to realize that there is a better approach to things than the approach your uncle uses. As I said, you have nothing to gain by denying yourself and you have not been tortured since you were a small child so there is no reason for the way you act."

Sage faltered at the statement Dumbledore had made about his uncle, shuddering at the mere thought. There were plenty of reasons for the way he acted. Perhaps they were not the same reasons as his uncle, but they were nonetheless very good reasons. Afterall, who would know more about what he needed to do, who would have better advice, who would know what sacrifices he needed to make better than his uncle? As if it had anything to do with what he wanted, nothing ever did and probably never would.

"This has nothing to do with personal gain, sir," he stated boldly with fierce conviction.

His mind inadvertantly struck him with an image of Hermione. She was so aggravated with him for keeping her away, but he had been doing it so forcefully for her best interest. Not that she did not sometimes annoy him.

For the first time in the entire conversation, Dumbledore looked slightly caught off guard. He had assumed that Sage had the same reasons as Severus for being withdrawn and unemotional.

"Then you believe it serves some sort of purpose?" Dumbledore asked, frowning.

Sage stood up abruptly and walked over to the window. He tried to walk away from his intrusive thoughts as well. They made him feel vulnerable. His facial muscles were all relaxed, except for a slight tension in his brow. He was pensive.

"Protection," he stated, turning back around to face Dumbledore. "Adaption. Preparation. It serves all sorts of purposes, sir. Beyond that, you should know that it is part of my nature. I am naturally introverted and guarded. I have always been that way, my uncle has done nothing to make me that way."

Dumbledore's hand made a brief circle as he gestured for Sage to continue. "You will, of course, need to explain yourself further."

Sage sighed, "Whatever associations I may have, could prove to be deadly. I would not do that to someone else. My reservations protect others from harm, sir, for when He comes back. Adaption, I suppose because it is much easier to act a part when most know very little of you; a skill that my uncle makes the most of. Preparation should be fairly obvious. Whatever it is that I must do, I know that I must do most of it alone. Whatever you might like to think, sir, I am going to have to steel myself up when that time comes. I am going to have to fight alone and I am going to have to die alone. I would like to be prepared for how it is going to feel then."

Sage turned back around to face the window, his black robes swishing slightly.

"What you are going to have to feel then when you have to act like Severus, for your safety and his."

"Yes, sir. For the future."

It was Dumbledore's turn to sigh loudly. He rubbed his eyes. After minutes of silence, he closed the distance between himself and Sage and stood next to him at the window.

"Showing yourself to a few people you care deeply about will not change what is to come. People are going to die, Sage, for many different reasons in this war. The people that you care about are very likely to die whether you are in their lives or not."

"Perhaps," Sage answered, noncommitally.

"This is difficult, Sage. It is time, however, for you to confront something."

Sage turned abruptly from looking into the distance and faced the headmaster.

"Severus couldn't do it and, Merlin, I don't want to do it either. Someone has to."

Sage's face slackened slightly in response to the headmaster's voice wavering slightly. He recoiled slightly when the headmaster reached out to touch his shoulder. The force in his blue eyes faded considerably as they shifted into questioning, while gazing into Dumbledore's blue eyes.

The old man sighed deeply, "You are going to die, Sage, within the next ten years. It is likely as inevitable as it is unfortunate. You, as well as I, know that none of Merlin's prophecies have gone unfulfilled. Now, there are two outcomes that are entirely within your control, entirely Sage. That is very important. Either you will triumph over Voldemort and, with your death, save the entire wizarding world from a time of Darkness, or you will fail and be killed by Voldemort. So with that will go the hopes of generations, Sage."

Sage's face and eyes looked suddenly overcome, "I know that, sir. Why remind me when I am beginning to get passed it?"

"You are not getting passed it, you are pushing through it. You have not dealt with it yet. Now, knowing that you are going to die, how do you wish to live? Do you wish to live and die completely alone and emotionally desolate? Die for nothing, for no reason at all?Do you wish to die without a purpose? Do you wish to die without knowing what you are dying for, without knowing what you are protecting, without having lived life at all? Or do you wish to live and die having experienced as much of life as you can? Also knowing that this second option will make you stronger."

"Headmaster, I have appearances that I must keep up as well. Don't you see? This isn't a choice that is mine to make. My wishes do not matter, now or in the end."

"But it is your choise, Sage, it is. No matter what you might gather from Severus. Do you think that he doesn't care for people? Do you think that if he dies in this war, he would have died without a purpose, without some knowledge of what he was allowing to live and survive? He fulfilled any obligation years ago, many years ago. He may not admit it, but he does what he does because he wants to, because he wants to save others from a fate that he has lived before."

Sage stared at him darkly

"He does care, Sage, about a lot of things. Severus cares about the fate of millions of people. He cares about the Slytherins who have one foot in Voldemort's service already. He cares about the other students who go out into the world having learned too little from Hogwarts to protect themselves. Why do you think he is so harsh in the classroom? Most of all he cares about you. In the years between Jace's and Lily's death and your return he was ten times worse than he is now. You changed that for him, regardless of whether he admits that or not. You gave him someone to care about, someone that he would be willing to give his life for. Do you really think that he wants this for you, whether or not he feels any measure of this necessary, do you think he really wants this for you?"

Sage sat down in the chair now, holding his arm close to his stomach. He did not answer and it did not appear that he would

"The two of you, the two of you are horrible. HORRIBLE! Do you know how hard it is to try and mediate between two Snapes, do you? Neither of you wishes to see how much you care about the other. In fact, I am convinced that you anger him and he angers you for the specific purpose of denying that you both care."

The headmaster took a deep breath and when he looked at Sage, the boy's eyes were wide, very wide.

"Do not deny that you care, Sage. All hopes I have for him rest upon you. Show him that you care, Sage. It will do things for you both. Then you will understand. You must allow yourself to be happy before that time comes, before the last fight. Your ties to this world and the people in it make you stronger. Accepting what you desire makes you more balanced and powerful. There are still measures to take to protect people than what you are allowing yourself to become. You are, in effect, stamping out the embers that will burn fires within you."

"I do care about my uncle. But other than that you cannot stamp out what was never there, sir."

"Now you know that is not true. You have feelings and desires, Sage. I know that because so much has changed in you since last year, and it all has lessened your abilities. The two are related," he paused for a moment, staring at Sage's less impassive face. "I know that the same way that I know how much you care about your uncle. I didn't need to see what happened in my office last year to know that."

Sage and Severus had so very much in common, especially from when Severus was younger. They were both a lot less self-interested than they let on. Severus had made lots of sacrifices, too many if you asked Dumbledore. So many, in fact, that the man would likely never be the same. Sage was already stalking straight down that same route. Dumbledore, for the second time, found himself trying to prevent it. He had hoped that Sage would progress naturally back to a state of balance, especially after going away. Now that opportunity had been suspended temporarily, and it was again Dumbledore's responsibility to try and direct Sage.

"I think that there is something that you need to see," he said finally.

Gentle prodding was not working as well as he had hoped, and Dumbledore had knowledge in the fact that sometimes a slight shock worked wonders on a Snape.

"See, sir?"

"Yes, I believe that you have seen it before, and it might be a little difficult for you. I think that it is time you see it once more," he guided Sage towards a side chamber to the left. "You are much older now."

Dumbledore held open the door for the young man, knowing that his reaction would be dramatic.

Sage's eyes flitted across the small empty room before his glance fell on it. His heartbeat sped up just staring at it, his blue eyes glued to it.

Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder, "I believe that it was removed from your manor shortly after you first encountered it. It proved most useful a few years ago. Mr. Potter liked it particularly. Of course, when he looked into it, it had none of the unexpected effects that it had upon you when you were a child."

Sage took a small step back and to the side, breaking the contact between the two of them.

In a low voice, his tones deep and dark, he said, "The Mirror of Desire."

His perception of the headmaster faded from his consciousness. The mirror naturally drew him in, demanding his full attention. He recognized one foreign emotion as apprehension and the second as fear. Residual emotion from the last time he had come across the mirror. He had been very young and very unprepared. Panic spread up his body. This mirror was like his antithesis.

Unconsciously, he began to walk forward, answering its strange call to him. His body felt stiffer with each step, his heart contracting so hard that he was sure he could feel it in his arms and legs.

He stepped in front of it and in its icey depths of reflection, he saw himself. His blue eyes glittered unnaturally back at him. He blinked once, feeling his body drift. Suddenly he felt pulled straight out of his skin and sucked in.

His brain overdosed on sensory input as he was thrust into the mirror image. Not one, but a successful chain of his deepest desires involved him as an unwilling actor. Touch, sound, smell, everything hitting him at once as if he were on a most potent drug. He was pulled into it as if it were really happening.

His back impacted upon the wet, spongey grass after his father knocked him off his broom. When he opened his eyes, his father was hovering over him. The man's dark chocolatey eyes twinkling at him playfully.

"Oi, get up. Don't think I don't know that you're just letting your old man beat you."

"I'm not!" was his exasperated answer.

"Well, now, that's fairly pathetic don't you think Sev?"

"Speaks less for youth and more for experience," his uncle's answer came as he pulled his own broom to a stop next to his brother.

"Give over will you both? I'm getting up. I can deal with your double-teaming in the air, but being verbally abused is another story," he smiled.

"Let's shut up and play then," said Jace, who reached down and patted Sage's cheek.

He felt himself being whirlwinded again and when the feeling stopped he was no longer playing Quidditch.

He looked to his side and his uncle was walking next to him. He felt a warm rush inside of him. The man's sallow skin was livelier and more the color of cream. His black eyes were darting around taking everything in as they walked down Diagon Alley. Suddenly he turned to face Sage.

"I think I've sighted an entire score of young ladies staring at you, nephew."

He put his arm around Sage, who was his same height. "You must have inherited the family looks. Afterall we share about 90% of our genetics."

"You're so sure they aren't staring at you, sir? It would be more fortunate for them that way. As I am constantly reminded, I am spoken for."

"Spoken for." Severus snorted. "I had never known that girl to be so vocal outside of class, but I should have known."

"Vocal would not be the word that I would use, uncle."

"For once I was trying to be gracious, Sage."

Sage laughed, "Now there's something that I am not used to."

He playfully knocked Sage on the back of the head, "Ha ha," he said. "You have no gift for humor," he added, shaking his head.

Sage swirled out again and his ears were instantly met by yelling.

"Father!"

"Father! Don't listen to him!"

He was sitting on a soft leather couch when two boys came flying into the room, each trying to talk over the other one. One boy was much taller and older than the other, he had blue eyes. The younger boy was looking ferociously at the other one, with his intense black eyes.

Sage's eyes grew wide as he stared at them, the younger boy was pulling at the sleeves of his robes, fighting for his father's attention. His ears couldn't take it.

"Silence, the both of you. You know better than to think that you'll get my attention by yelling."

"Sorry, sir," the older boy answered.

The younger one crossed his arms.

"Severus," he said to the younger boy.

"Sorry," he said, half-heartedly.

"Well then, I'll just ask your brother what this is all about. Go ahead, Jace."

The younger boy jumped forward and he grabbed Sage's sleeve.

"Awe, father, don't listen to him first. I'm sorry."

"Let go Severus, perhaps you should have thought about that before."

The younger boy grumbled and glared at his brother.

"Father, Severus spilled ink all over my Herbology essay, on purpose."

"Did not!" Severus screamed, pushing his brother.

Sage grabbed him by the arm, "By Merlin, boy, exert a little more control. You're behaving like an ill-mannered little brat."

"Let go! Let me go. I didn't do anything. He's lying. Let go!"

Sage shook his younger son and slapped him lightly across his face to get his attention.

"Stop acting so stupidly, Severus, you are only making things worse," Jace said to his little brother.

Sage looked at him in surprise. Since when had his oldest son grown up so much? Then he focused back on the seven year old.

"Severus, did you spill ink on his homework on purpose?"

"No," the boy said defiantly.

"Are you lying to me?"

"No, I didn't do anything."

Sage stood up and Severus saw the look in his father's eyes and bolted out of the room as fast as he could.

He heard the boy screaming down the hall, "Grandpa, Uncle Severus, father's going to KILL me!"

He fought back the desire to run after his son, but decided against it. Grandpa and Uncle Severus would have a thing or two to say to the boy if he ever found them.

"Jace, why don't you get your essay and I'll see if I can fix it for you."

The twelve-year-old sighed, "It's hopeless, sir. How could you fix it?"

"Hey, I'm a Magi, remember. If anyone can do it, your father can."

Jace's smile returned before he turned and ran to get his essay.

When the oldest son returned, two other boys followed him into the room.

"Can we watch too, Dad?"

"Yeah, can we watch?"

Sage cringed, "The word is yes, and yes you can watch too."

Each little boy flung himself on either side of his father on the couch, twins both six years old. Jace sat down on the chair next to the couch and handed his father the spoiled essay.

As soon as he had fixed Jace's essay for him, much to the oohhhs and aahhhs of his younger boys, the door opened purposefully once more.

The elder Severus strode in, holding the younger Severus in mid-air by the waist of his pants. The boy was completely horizontal, banging his fists at the air, his face red with frustration.

"I believe that this is yours," Severus said bobbling his great nephew in the air, "I found him shrieking down the hallway that you were going to kill him and that, for some reason, he thought that I was going to protect him."

Sage laughed slightly, "I have no idea where he learned that logic. He would have done better to go find his other-may."

The older Severus smiled slightly in understanding. "Jace, why don't you entertain your brothers for awhile."

Jace's eyebrow went up. He knew a dismissal when he heard one

"Yes, sir," he said standing immediately. He held out both his hands to his brothers. "Come on Charlie, Sage. Father and Uncle Severus need to talk to Sev."

He had many other images of desire that he was dropped into. Power flowing out of himself like electric currents as he stood over what once was Voldemort. There were others, scores of others, some that he did not even understand, with people he did not recognize.

Then there was the one, the one that made bricks crack down all around him; the imaginary bricks that he had built up.

He jolted out of it, not able to take any more, staggering back away from the mirror. He put his hands up to the side of his head in a vain attempt to rid himself of all the sensory imagery, but it wouldn't go away. He could still feel it all over his body and through his very being. The wall was the only thing that arrested his backward movement, repulsed by the sheer magnitude of the mirror's powers over him. His back slid down the wall, scratching along as it went. His backside hit the floor hard, and he was incapable of noticing. He was shaking his head so hard as if he were deranged.

The mirror always had a strange effect on Sage with him being a Magi. Instead of seeing his desire, like everyone else, he felt it, experienced it, lived it. Not only that but for some reason it seemed as if Sage did not have one deepest desire. He had many equally ranked desires, simple desires. He had been completely overwhelmed when he came across the mirror when he was eight. Severus had not been able to get the boy to speak for three days then. It was at this point that the mirror was removed to Hogwarts, where Dumbledore found uses for it.

Now the headmaster watched with complete attention, knowing that there was nothing that he could do to make Sage feel better. Sage would never have seen his desires like this; he would likely not even have known that some of them existed. Sage was not the type to dwell on his desires repeatedly, as a more normal teenager would. Everytime Sage had felt something, he had pushed it down so hard, that he had never come to any of the points that the mirror had come to within seconds.

Sage's breathing was loud, frequent, and irregular. Dumbledore had not entirely ruled out the possibility that Sage was hyperventilating.

He wanted children, he wanted that many children? Sage was flabbergasted.

Burning pains went up and down his chest and lungs as the last 'desire' ripped its way through his mind, leaving strings of intrusive thoughts lying in its wake. The more he tried to banish it, the fresher it seemed to stay. Never in his entire life had he ever believed or truly known that he desired this, never. Then there it was, or rather there he was a part of it. The one thing, the one desire, the one person that would just not let him walk away – that would just not stay pushed down. His heart thumped viciously in his chest. The one person who had just told him that she had completely given up on him. It was irrevokably too late. He had blown it before he had even known it. How strange and ironic life always seemed to be for him.

He closed his eyes tightly, trying to hold back an entire rainbow of strange emotions that were coursing through his mind and body. His entire body was shaking as if he were freezing cold, but he felt so warm that he felt as if his blood was about to boil and spurt out of his head.

The more he tried, the harder he pushed, the more he just could not make it go away. He felt his strong defenses crumbling to ashes. Everything that he had ever bottled up and pushed down was erupting.

What do you think about how the Mirror impacts him? What do you think of what he saw? Thanks for all your notes and reviews! I always reply to them if you're logged in!