author: Lucinda

rated T

disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any recognized characters or the general setting of the Harry Potter stories.

Viewpoint character is little Marcus Flint

this is not a romance-focused story and such relationships are not a significant plot element.

...

Little Marcus stayed close to the edge of the room, tucked against the wall. Visiting Grandfather was usually interesting, with a chance to fly around the barns, and often puppies to play with. Often he could even see some of his cousins, keeping the family a bit closer than some managed.

Best were Grandma's biscuits, sweet and chewy with bits of dried fruit. The best way to eat them was still warm from the oven with a glass of milk. Grandma almost always had fresh biscuits when they visited. His parents tried to visit fairly often, in part to let him run around and in part to stay in touch with other relatives.

He doubted they'd expected the scary wizard with his people to be here. The one in charge was a stranger with dark hair and bright red eyes, and the half a dozen wizards and the one witch with him called him 'my lord' and showed him great respect.

This m'Lord didn't seem to have much respect for Grandfather. It was rude to be disrespectful to your host. If Marcus, who was only four, could tell the scary Lord was being disrespectful and rude, it was quite obvious indeed.

The wizard-lord was scowling at Grandma, a small, grey haired woman seated near the fireplace, needles making faint clicks as she turned balls of yarn into a warm afghan. "How does an old squib woman like you benefit the future of wizarding Britain?"

"I have sacrificed for the future of the wizarding world in ways you will never match, wizard," Grandma didn't look up from her yarn.

"You? A benefit to the future of the magical world?" Scorn and doubt dripped from his words, and several of the wizards following him snickered.

She gave the flock of followers one of those looks, the one which conveyed disappointment and the suspicion you hadn't actually cleaned behind your ears. She put her yarn and needles to the side and slowly, with the sound of several joints popping, rose to her feet, knobbly cane clutched in her knobbly fingers. Standing up straight, the top of her bun of grey hair was just equal to m'Lord's chin, but she still seemed to be looking down at him. "I have been pregnant seventeen times. I have presented twelve living children for their naming ceremonies and watched as nine of them exchanged vows with their partners. I have twenty three grandchildren, and every one of them who is older than three has shown signs of magic. This is what I have sacrificed for the future, wizard, and I doubt it is a sacrifice you would make even if you could."

The snickering followers fell silent, some of them now shuffling in the same way Marcus and his cousins did when she turned that look at them. The wizard's eyebrows had raised over his dark red eyes, and his jaw was trying to drop, shock fighting with dignity and pride. "My apologies, you have sacrificed for the future."

One of the followers whispered, not quite soft enough to go unnoticed, "Seventeen times? But that's..."

"Only twelve naming ceremonies..." another muttered. "Condolences on your losses."

"I have not fought and sacrificed on the battlefields by crossing wands with wizards of differing ideas. I have not argued in the halls of politics. But I have made my own sacrifices, and I will not have them belittled. None of you would be here if not for other women making the same sacrifices." Grandma's spine was straight and she gave a disapproving glare at each of the followers. "Not everyone is capable of the same contributions and the same sacrifices. But that does not mean those of us who are not rising political forces have done nothing for the future. I could not do what some of you have done, and are still trying to do. But few of you could hope to make the same sacrifices I have made."

The only witch among the followers, a tall woman with dark curls nodded, and gave a small bow to Grandma. "You have sacrificed much for the future. I hope they have become all that you hoped they would be, that they have a little respect for what you have done."

"I think they appreciate my cooking more than what it cost to bring them into the world, but I suppose one takes what one can get in some matters," Grandma gave a small sniff, and a shrug. "They start to have a better understanding when they begin their own families."

"Seventeen might be a bit many, but I shall try to make some of those sacrifices of my own," the curly haired witch murmured. "For the future of my family, and my husband's family, and magical Britain."

"May your hopes come true with that, as I think you know it isn't quite as simple as deciding and it being so," Grandma spoke solemnly.

Marcus stayed still and quiet near the wall, watching the witch talk to his Grandma. The wizards had been afraid of her, muttering about her being mad and dangerous and talking about black blood and how it always showed, which hadn't made any sense to Marcus. He didn't see any blood on the woman, and wouldn't it be red like everyone else's anyhow? He doubted she would talk to him the way she was talking to Grandma, and didn't want to make her angry at him. He thought that would be very bad.

Marcus did his best to avoid the notice of the wizard m'Lord and his followers while they were there. It made the next three days seem very long, though he found if he spent the days either outside with the animals or in the kitchen helping Grandma then the wizard followers wouldn't be there. They preferred talking to Grandpa and his uncles and making odd expressions at some of his aunts and older cousins. Marcus didn't understand that at all.

Once the tall witch even turned up to talk with Grandma, who gave her biscuits and talked with her for several hours, though she'd made a small waving motion with her hand when she'd seen Marcus, suggesting without words he go play with the puppies instead. Grandma didn't seem quite willing to trust this witch, called Bellatrix, with her smaller grandchildren.

He wondered if it had to do with the black blood, or if they were talking about grown-up stuff. Grown-up stuff was boring, but it might make this Bellatrix consider Grandma an ally, which might help in the future. Though none of the wizards were bothering her.

Marcus wasn't sure if it had been Grandma daring to talk back to m'Lord or if the disapproving looks reminded them of their own Grandmas. Some of those looks could be scary.

His parents seemed much less twitchy when m'Lord and his followers went away. Marcus felt better too, though that might have been the fact it meant more biscuits for him.

Marcus hoped he'd never be in the same room as m'Lord again, he'd felt far too nervous. The wizard's magic had felt like it was crawling over his skin every time he'd been nearby, and it left Marcus feeling quite unsettled.

When some of his father's friends started talking about how 'even squibs could be useful', his father only nodded. Marcus wasn't sure what they meant, and didn't dare ask since he'd been supposed to be in bed already. He thought it had something to do with Grandma talking back to m'Lord, but wasn't sure.

He just hoped he'd never properly meet m'Lord, never be the actual focus of that wizard's attention. m'Lord was just scary, and Marcus wanted nothing to do with him. Which also meant not making a big fuss against him, because then people might want to know why, and that would be different attention he wouldn't like.

Marcus also hoped he never forgot that sacrifices came in many types. Some were flashy and fast, and others were quieter, away from the battlefields and halls of politics. There were many ways to work and sacrifice for the future.

end Pottery Shard: I Have Sacrificed.