Sutton Sinclair | First Year | Ilvermorny

To call Sutton Sinclair arrogant would be like calling an ocean wet. She comes from old money, even by wizarding standards, and she acts like it. Even on the occasion that she goes into muggle Los Angeles for her frequent shopping trips, she looks down on the wealthy elites on Rodeo drive like they would sully the bottom of her designer boots.

She has no desire to work, or to build a career. She has everything she could ever want, and she has no intention of letting her life change, but her Father gave her a very specific condition: in order to inherit his fortune, she would have to finish school, so she was naturally enrolled in the, in her opinion, most prestigious of wizarding schools: Ilvermorny.

She sees the other schools as beneath her, except for possibly Beauxbatons, but, ironically enough, she considers the girls at Beauxbatons to be too snobbish for her tastes. But Ilvermorny suits her just fine: just the right amount of pureblood elitism, minus the encouraged practice of dark magic at Durmstrang and the barbaric death castle that is Hogwarts.

Like with many young witches in the pureblood community, Sutton was born of an arranged marriage. A political game consisting of the movement of chess pieces she was too young to even know existed. There was no love between her parents, and, frankly, no love between her mother and her.

Her father was a different story.

Charles Sinclair loved his daughter, even as he failed her by needlessly spoiling her. Every tear sliding down her cheek was a dagger to his chest, so convinced was he that his daughter was nothing less than perfection incarnate.

Sutton grew up in the lap of luxury. House elves, a carryover from the Sinclair family's time in the UK in the sixteenth century, and squibs served the Sinclair family loyally, earning very sizeable salaries so long as Sutton was satisfied. When Sutton called, servants were at her side before she needed to repeat the call for assistance. The servants were hired with but a single instruction: Sutton must be as happy and content as she can be. All other duties within the manor were inconsequential compared to Sutton's happiness.

Of course, she grew up arrogant, thinking herself above all others. Not because of her blood status, but because of the luxury in which she was raised. While others lived and worked for every penny they earned, Sutton ruled a small, glorious kingdom in the outskirts of muggle Los Angeles.

Sutton had no love for hard work, and no desires or lofty dreams. She only wanted to live as she already did, for the rest of her life. However, her dad did insist on her attending school, and he didn't ask her to do much, so she obliged. She had a soft spot for him, after all.

She took her studies seriously, but they weren't difficult for her. Magic came naturally to her, given her prestigious blood line, and she couldn't let herself appear to be anything less than perfect, so she practiced diligently, surprising the servants in the manor.

At last, she was accepted to Ilvermorny - by choice, since, to her, the other magical schools were deemed inferior, or snobby in the case of Beauxbatons. She carried herself in isolation, keeping her chin high as she was chosen by the Horned Serpent house, and even higher as she avoided wasting her time socializing with people with whom she assumed she would never need to build connections. After all, after graduation, she had no intention of working.

Sutton was very young when her first expression of magic surfaced.

As a six-year-old girl, she was celebrating her birthday. In attendance were a large number of house elves and other servants and her father. Sutton was quite content, eagerly laughing as she opened her presents. Then, the cake came out, but right as it did, her dad received an owl from his work, asking him to see to an emergency with the MACUSA.

He left with an apology and a kiss to Sutton's head, but her good mood immediately left with him.

Staring at the three-tier birthday cake, it was no longer sufficient. No longer perfect. She wanted more.

She wanted her dad, but her six-year-old brain didn't realize that. She just knew she wasn't content, so she demanded the only thing she knew she could have.

"More cake!" she demanded, despite knowing she wouldn't even finish more than a slice of this one.

The servants hastened to the kitchen to make another cake, but Sutton's screams and crying grew by the minute. Her eyes were closed as her hands banged on the table, and, at last, when she opened her eyes, the three-tier-cake was now significantly bigger. So big, in fact, that the top was squishing into the very high ceiling.

Sutton sniffled and stared at the cake, not understanding that she'd just done magic by mistake. All she knew was that she'd gotten what she'd wanted.

...or what she'd thought she wanted, in any case.