Chapter Eight

Azkaban Prison

It was a small dry island made of rocks in the middle of the ocean. No matter where someone stood they would be able to hear the waves lapping, and crashing. It was a constant roaring. The air was salty, and damp with seawater strong enough to taste.

Auror's in black with their hoods up stood around each of the small one room quarters. All of them were drab gray, and black with iron bars at the windows. They were dark inside. There wasn't even a candle to warm them.

Uncle Harry, and her dad walked at her side. The yelling, and threats strangely echoed in her eardrums. Her father, and uncle stared straight ahead not bothered by it all, and so she did the same. She pretended that she didn't understand what they were saying about them, or her.

Painted red like blood on the side of the buildings were numbers. They walked until they reached a building that didn't have numbers on it, but it was identical to the others. She suppose that will be where she met with him.

"He doesn't know who he's seeing," Uncle Harry explained, the humid air making his hair wilder than she ever seen it so it made it appear as if he was constantly surprised by everything. "We'll be right here, yell if you need us. Come out when you're ready, okay?"

Ara nodded not trusting herself enough to speak. Her father looked as if he wanted to take her back home, and he glared out in the endless sea. Uncle Harry jerked his head to the door signaling her to go in.

Inside there was a wooden table, and two unsteady chairs in the center of a brick room. In one of those chairs was a lean man. Receding baby blond hair, sunken cheeks that showed how sharp his cheekbones were, and... Her eyes. Her father's eyes. She sucked in a breath, and sat across from him.

Lucius leaned forward. "Who may I ask are you?" His voice was raspy. It obviously hadn't been used in ages.

"My name is Ara Malfoy."

His eyes widened, and he tinged a ailing green. "You are not Ara," he said low, and dangerous. It was boarding on warning her not to say the name again, and daring her.

She ignored hi ominous tone. "I am. My name is Ara Narcissa Malfoy. I'm Draco, and Hermione's daughter. Your granddaughter."

Through clenched teeth he hissed, "you are not my grandchild. No filthy half-breed is a grandchild of mine. I don't have a son!"

She smiled her smile that her father always said reminded him of her aunt, the one that could light up a room. He was now perched on the end of his seat teetering on the verge of lunging at her. Then she spoke the words that made Lucius Malfoy come undone, the words that she knew would. "I have your eyes."

He leapt to his feet pointing a shaking finger at her. "Liar," he screamed. "Liar! You dirty, despicable liar! You bitch!"

The door banged open her father storming in, his wand raised at Lucius, Uncle Harry at his heels. "Enough!" He charged his father to a wall his wand pointing under his chin. "You will not speak to my daughter that way!"

Lucius' eyes glinted, and he barked a laugh. "Mr. Potter, will you kindly take this man off of me, as you know it's law not to harm the convicts when there has been no threat made."

Uncle Harry slammed the door behind him, specks of dust, and dirt floating from the ceiling on their heads. "You did make a threat."

"I do not recall -"

"If you were a parent you'd know that yelling at one's child like that is considered a threat. There is no law that says I have to restrain him. There is a law that says I can castigate you."

"You may not be afraid of me, father," her dad spat, "but you should be."

"I'm afraid of no one -"

"You're afraid of having a half-blood daughter. Look at her, father. Look at her eyes. She has your eyes. She laughs like mum, and smiles like my sister."

"Don't you dare speak of my wife, and daughter!"

"My mum, my sister. You have no right to speak of them. You locked my mum in a room while you tortured Hermione, and me! You stood there, and watched as Voldemort killed my sister! You're lucky that I don't kill you right now!"

At those words Uncle Harry bounded at them wrenching her dad back. "I'll have no way of explaining why you killed him, Draco. You can't kill the inmates."

Lucius sneered. "I'm untouchable -"

Uncle Harry's wand was at his throat before he could finish whatever it was he was going to say. "He can't kill you, but I can, and I will. I have many reasons for doing it, and everyone will understand."

"Like what?"

"You tried to murder my best friend," he said matter-of-factly. "The only reason I haven't killed you yet is because I want you to suffer. Remember this, remember that your son married a muggle-born, and had a half-blood daughter with your eyes. I hope it eats at you. I hope you see her face when you sleep."

"Draco is a shame upon our pureblood line. He has ruined what we worked so hard for."

Ara felt her blood boil as he talked about her dad. She felt her pocket feeling something small, and round. That morning there was an instinctive feeling that she would need it, and she learned from her parents to trust her gut. She slid the Diggory's ring on her finger, and marched forward. She stopped inches from him. Uncle Harry, and her dad tensed worried for her being that close.

Lucius' expression was nothing less of finding waste at the bottom of what would've been his shiny shoes. "Get away from me."

She reached out, and grasped his arm. There was a crack, and bright light, and Lucius was on the floor screaming, the sound reverberating. This time she didn't let go. She kept her hand on him, and saw between her fingers that he was burning red, and blistering.

Her dad made to grab at her, but Uncle Harry shoved him with a warning glaze. He knew about the ring. He grasped her shoulder with one hand, the other prying her fingers off of her grandfather's arm. He dragged her to the door pushing her out, and leaving Lucius in screaming pain. Her dad was close behind them.

"I'm in trouble, aren't I?" She imagined being locked up in one of the buildings, screaming like Lucius was screaming, or yelling in a trapped desperate way that the others were. It sent shivers like ice down her spine. The cool air didn't help as it crept under the sleeves of her robe.

"No," her uncle assured. "Of course not."

"Better not be," her dad added loftily. "Ara, my daughter, I've never been prouder of you."

She beamed pocketing the ring once more safely away from anyone's skin. Perhaps the ring wasn't so terrible after all.