Author's Note: It's been a while, I know, but thank you all for the continued support. I haven't forgotten this story - I've just been really busy. I'm just glad that I finally managed to crank this chapter out for you guys. I can't give a definite date as to when this'll be updated again, but it should be within the next two weeks. Sorry for the delays.

There were few times in Draco's life during which he could say he was fooled. He was all too aware of human nature and knew that there was nothing that fellow wizards were above when it came to manipulating others for their own gain. Still, he couldn't help but be tricked when "Crabbe" and "Goyle" approached him near the Slytherin common room sometime after the Christmas holiday, inquiring about the Chamber of Secrets.

"It's a real shame what's been going on in this castle as of late." Draco found himself telling the two one afternoon, about an hour or so before his next class. "To think that people really believe that purebloods should fraternize with those of lesser blood. It's horrifying, honestly."

The silence that followed his words startled him. Usually, Crabbe and Goyle would grin dumbly, agreeing with his every statement. Crabbe would probably sneer and say something almost witty, while Goyle would crack his knuckles in a manner he probably thought intimidating, denoting his disgust with the mixing of the blood statuses.

Now, however, the unintelligent duo said nothing. Their silence echoed off of the walls of the corridor around them, somehow making the candlelight almost menacing. Draco wasn't unnerved, per se, but he couldn't for the life of him understand why the two were practically glaring at him. He brushed it off as them having a bad day, continuing to walk towards the common room.

He hadn't seen Azula or Astoria all day. The Firinian princess had taken to disappearing randomly throughout the day, her only explanation being a muttered excuse about Agni-forsaken dreams. Astoria, on the other hand, had only smiled cheekily at him when he questioned her about her absence, insisting that she was trying to enjoy her first year at Hogwarts without the stress of all this petrification stuff.

He made a mental note to be very, very wary of what she meant by enjoying. He'd been on the end of one too many pranks and knew that his younger friend wouldn't hesitate to bring her prankster nature to Hogwarts.

Without really thinking about it, he murmured the password to the common room, stepping inside swiftly with Crabbe and Goyle on his heels before the portrait closed once more. He made his way over to one of the couches, sitting down in it without a second thought. Crabbe and Goyle immediately followed suit. Draco had barely managed to close his eyes before his rest was interrupted by a question from Goyle.

"What do you reckon's been going on?" Goyle asked him, the suddenness of the question forcing Draco's eyes back open. The blond stared at his dimwitted acquaintance, waiting for him to continue. "With the petrification and Slytherin's heir, I mean."

Draco stared at Goyle for a good while, trying to understand the meaning behind the question. Usually, when things went awry at Hogwarts, the last person he'd ever suspect to care was Goyle. The idiotic Slytherin usually spent his time trying to impress Draco and Crabbe, or talk to Millicent Bulstrode, but never before had he been so concerned about strange occurrences within the castle. Pushing that thought to the back of his mind, he answered his classmate's question.

"Not sure." Draco shrugged, his eyes rolling slightly with his next words. "I've heard that Potter's the Heir of Slytherin. He can talk to snakes after all. Wouldn't surprise me honestly."

In response to Draco's words, Crabbe's brows furrowed.

"Har – I mean, Potter couldn't be Slytherin's heir." Crabbe frowned, his tone incredulous. "Ryland – Azula could speak to snakes as well. You can't forget that."

Eyes narrowed, Draco took Crabbe's words into consideration. While it was true that Azula also possessed the ability to converse with snakes, he got the feeling that he shouldn't be confirming whatever Crabbe was trying to get at. A mental image of the Firinian girl's strange diary came to mind, but he pushed it back. There was no way he was getting Crabbe and Goyle involved in that. Despite their dimwitted nature, he felt that the two of him were suspicious of something, and it wouldn't be in his – or Azula's and Astoria's – best interest to let them in on his knowledge.

"True, but Potter's the one always getting himself involved in everything that goes wrong around here." Draco settled on, scoffing haughtily. "He's the one that the Dark Lord was focused on all those years ago, so obviously he has some darkness to him."

Goyle's eyes widened almost comically, his mouth gaping like a fish out of water. He looked as if he wanted to say something to refute Draco's claim but ultimately decided to keep his mouth shut. Draco couldn't put his finger on it, but both Crabbe and Goyle were acting very strangely. Crabbe leaned towards him, voice lowering considerably as he spoke again.

"Do you reckon I…could be next?" If Crabbe weren't sitting right next to him, Draco would have a hard time believing that the question came from him.

He scoffed at the ridiculousness of the query. While Crabbe could be considered dumb on a good day, this was a new low, even for him. He leveled him with a scathing look, one that was certain to display his confusion and annoyance.

"You're a pureblood, Crabbe. Nothing's gonna happen to you." Draco frowned, his eyes intense as he sat up straighter in the chair. "Are you alright? You seem a bit different."

Crabbe opened his mouth, perhaps to defend himself, but was cut off by a female voice.

"That's because he is different." A familiar dry voice murmured quietly.

Draco looked up, and through the shadows of the common room, he was able to see a figure slowly becoming visible. It was as if she had been invisible before, though he wasn't sure exactly how she had done it.

"How long have you been there, Malia?" He got straight to the point. He knew that the older Slytherin wouldn't appreciate small talk, not even from him.

"Long enough to know that these aren't the real Crabbe and Goyle." Malia crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at the two boys sitting next to Draco.

He glanced at them, watching as their previously neutral expressions gave way to slight panic. Crabbe promptly started sweating, running his hands through his short hair frantically, while Goyle nervously swallowed. At first glance, it would seem as if the room had gotten warmer, but it was only the nerves of the two supposed Slytherins.

"What – what're you talking about, Malia?" Goyle stammered, dark eyes flickering rapidly in a short period of time.

Draco took a moment to really feel the atmosphere around him. There was no reason why Goyle ought to be sweating during mid-winter, especially not with the location of the Slytherin common room. The fireplace, despite crackling loudly, was nowhere near them, so his perspiration couldn't be blamed on the heat of the flames.

Nope, definitely nerves – but why?

"First of all, Gregory, you've never called me by first name in all the time you've known me." Malia arched a brow and, in that moment, she couldn't look more aristocratic. Draco found the expression almost enviable. "It's always been di Angelo or prefect lady."

Draco pondered her words for a few seconds. He knew that the closer he got to Azula and Astoria was the further away he drifted from Crabbe and Goyle, but he still knew the idiots well enough to know that Malia had a point. A simple change in the way one addressed a person was no big deal, but with Goyle of all people, something serious ought to have happened to cause that change.

"He could've changed his ways." Crabbe came to Goyle's defense, but by now, Draco's suspicion had been raised as well.

Goyle would never speak so formally. Of that, Draco was absolutely certain. He'd also never be so polite, not even to a fellow Slytherin. Both of his classmates were acting strangely, and Draco couldn't understand what their problem was. As far as he knew, neither of them had sustained a head injury and even so, such an occurrence wouldn't increase their intelligence and courtesy. It just wasn't feasible, unless…

"Polyjuice potion." Draco breathed out suddenly, cutting off whatever Malia had been saying to the two boys while he was lost in thought. Chest puffed out and eyes squinted, he took a good look at the now guilty-looking boys. "Potter, Weasley, care to explain why you're really here?"

Now caught, the Gryffindor boys didn't even have the decency to look contrite. In fact, they looked like they wanted nothing more than to hex him and run. They probably would've had it not been for Malia's hand going swiftly to her wand, pointing it at the boys.

"Don't." It was only at Malia's single uttered word that Draco realized that Potter – or was it Weasley? The potion was really making it hard for him to distinguish between the two – had reached for his wand. "Veritatem Revela."

Almost immediately, large bumps appeared on both Potter's and Weasley's bodies. For a moment, Draco assumed that Malia had hexed them with boils but as the bumps started moving, that idea fled from his mind. Both boys cringed, doubling over in a way that suggested they were both in pain. He would've felt bad for them had they not been trying to deceive him. He chose to look at the ever-burning fireplace, ignoring the groans that his Gryffindor classmates were letting out. He only looked back when he heard Potter begin to speak.

"How'd you know?" The meaning behind his question was evident. How had Malia been able to tell that they were under the influence of polyjuice potion?

"I'm taking advanced potions, Potter." Malia sneered, eyes glinting with disgust. "I'd be a fool not to notice the tell-tale signs of a potion taken straight out of Most Potente Potions."

Draco found himself impressed with her skill. Advanced potions was a class he was looking forward to taking during his sixth year, but he didn't know the depth of knowledge that he'd gain from attending the class. The guilty, yet determined, look on Weasley's face was mirrored on Potter's to a lesser degree.

"I seem to recall your mother sending you a howler at the beginning of the year. What did she say again?" Malia tapped her chin in mock thought as she addressed Weasley now, the disgust in her eyes being replaced with cunning. "Something about dragging you out of Hogwarts if you stepped another foot out of line?"

Weasley looked like he wanted to say something in return, but Potter was quick to place a restraining hand on his friend's arm. Though the red-haired boy was still tense, his mouth remained shut. Draco could only hope that one day he'd have the ability to draw such a reaction out of the Gryffindors.

"Here's what's going to happen. Twenty points each from Gryffindor." Malia's voice never rose but the Gryffindor boys looked indignant nonetheless. "Any complaint and I'll make it thirty, understood?"

Potter and Weasley, who by now were glaring daggers at both Malia and Draco, stood up stiffly. Without so much as a backward glance at them, they stormed out of the common room to Merlin knows where. A sense of smugness came over Draco in light of their defeat, but it was short-lived. He looked up at Malia, who had remained standing throughout the situation. She raised an eyebrow in questioning at the look on his face.

"What?"

"The password." Draco clarified in a murmur, watching as realization spread across the older Slytherin's face. "They know the password now. What's stopping them from coming back?"

Malia brushed off his concerns with a wave, still standing.

"Leave that to me." She ordered, though not unkindly. "Your friend Azula is somehow connected to the attacks that have been going on around Hogwarts, yes?"

Draco could only blink at Malia's sudden change in topic. He didn't know how she had come to that conclusion and had the feeling that she wasn't going to enlighten him. He tried to look away from her piercing gaze but she gripped his jaw tightly in her hand, ensuring that eye contact was kept. She didn't seem to notice the fact that he hadn't responded to her.

"I want to know everything," Malia stated firmly, eyes flashing with an emotion Draco didn't think he wanted to know, "and you're going to entertain me."

There was no room for argument in her tone and if only because of his childhood loyalty to her, he didn't feel like arguing with her.

Azula absolutely did not intend on making this whole visiting Zuko thing a regular occurrence. Her intention had been to visit him the one time, see if he was dead, and carry on with her life the way she had been prior to the incident. As she sat in the chair next to her brother's bed in the hospital wing, drifting off to sleep despite her determination to stay awake, she questioned her motives.

She'd written a letter to her father detailing Zuko's ailment – hoping to gain some perspective – and she wasn't all that surprised at his uncaring reply.

'Did you really waste parchment to tell me of something so irrelevant to the Fire Nation's glory?' Her father had written in his letter. 'I will overlook your misjudgment this one time. Do not let it happen again.'

Once Azula had gotten over her initial fear at her father's response – sometimes, she had a hard time judging whether or not her father was truly angry with her, or just annoyed – she thought of her uncle's response. When she'd made the decision to write to her Uncle Iroh, she'd done so with the intention of gloating. She wanted him to know what it felt like to suffer, and what better way than to let him know about the fate of his beloved nephew? She recalled her words to him perfectly.

Uncle Iroh,

It gives me great pleasure to inform you that your precious Zuzu has been attacked. He is petrified, something to do with a creature that no one has been able to explain. There is currently no cure for him.

Your future ruler,

Crown Princess Azula

She kept the letter short and to the point. Her bluntness in the letter had made her proud, but the pride she felt was soon replaced with an unsettling feeling in her stomach when his reply to her came.

Princess Azula,

I will visit as soon as I am able. I should be no more than three or four months. I will keep your brother in my prayers to Agni.

Prince Iroh

Somehow, his formality stung a bit. Of course he would be more concerned with Zuko than with her. She didn't exactly expect her uncle to show some concern over whether or not she would be the next victim, but to read between the lines and see how indifferent to her safety he was really spoke volumes to her. Despite what Lu Ten had always tried to convince her of, her uncle wasn't the jovial, loving man he claimed to be.

With her mother? Yes.

With Zuko and Lu Ten? Definitely.

With Azula herself? Azula would probably be dead and buried before her uncle ever showed her a shred of consideration.

As much as she didn't like to let little things like these bother her, she couldn't help the bitterness she felt when her uncle's words played over and over in her head. She was the prodigal child. She was the one who sparked interest in foreign diplomats trying to barter with her grandfather Azulon and, when he passed on, her father. Yet, none of this mattered to him. His only concern, now that her mother was gone and his son was dead, was Zuko.

Even more reason for Azula to resent her brother.

Still, as her eyes drooped closed, forehead resting involuntarily on the bed in front of her, she couldn't help but question why it was that she wasn't good enough for the people in her family. The quietness of the hospital wing didn't help, only allowing her to despair in her thoughts without interruption. She couldn't hear anyone shuffling through the halls outside of the hospital wing but knew that it was getting pretty late. She should probably be going soon. Her eyes, however, had other ideas. Perhaps, she could just rest her eyes for a moment. Madame Pomfrey would wake her when visiting hours were over, and everything would be…

She wasn't tired enough to completely ignore the touch that suddenly landed on her shoulder. Before the person could move their hand away, she grabbed their wrist in her grip, forcing herself to sit up despite her tired state. By then, the lighting in the hospital wing had dimmed considerably, but not enough that she couldn't see who was touching her.

"I –" For reasons unknown even to her, Azula couldn't come up with an explanation to tell Draco, one that would make visiting the brother she loathed sound perfectly reasonable. Luckily for her, he cut her off.

"We need to talk." Draco said quietly, probably to avoid Madam Pomfrey's unintentional eavesdropping. "You, me, Astoria, and Malia."

At the mention of the elder Slytherin, Azula's eyebrows raised. She only then noticed that the Slytherin in question was standing a few feet away from Azula. She hadn't seen her since they had both been in the hospital wing – her visiting Zuko and Malia probably visiting her petrified girlfriend. Malia, though currently standing with her arms crossed protectively over her chest, wore a soft expression on her face. Her brown eyes were still guarded, but there was something about her demeanor that made her seem less haughty than usual. Maybe it was her loosened Slytherin tie, or the fact that her black hair was in a ponytail as opposed to its usual rigid bun. Whatever it was made her seem more approachable.

Perhaps, that's why she agreed to the discussion. There was a vulnerability to her that tugged at the space in her chest that she supposed housed her heart. The determination within the elder Slytherin's eyes reminded her of herself, and the vulnerability reminded her of the shell of the girl she used to be.

One who had perished when Lu Ten died.

Azula looked away from Draco and Malia towards her petrified brother. For the first time since she'd discovered his ailment, she took a few seconds to really observe his facial features. His eyes seemed to be narrowed, a contrast to his open mouth. His expression was almost scolding, a mix of annoyance and sneering. If she were being honest, his face was frozen in the expression he would often give her.

That last thought gave her pause.

The girl in the dreams, hair always shielding her face from view. Always accompanied by a massive, and probably hideous, creature, skulking through the shadows of Hogwarts. Thinking back, the girl seemed to be wearing night robes half the time, and school robes the other time. No matter where she had journeyed throughout the night, she was sure to retreat to the Slytherin common room at the end of her travels.

Heart skipping a beat, she came to a sudden realization – she was the girl from her dreams.

Somehow, someway, she had truly been possessed, perhaps by the journal. Draco and Astoria had mentioned it a few times in passing to her, but she had just assumed that they were being dramatic. Now, in light of observing her stony brother, she had no choice but to face the truth.

The journal had taken partial possession of her body.

When she reflected on all the experiences she'd had with the journal since it first came into her hands, the one that stood out the most was the time in the Room of Requirement that she and her friends had tried to destroy the journal. Rather than succumbing to obliteration, it had emitted a ghoulish mist, invading Azula's body for a few breath-catching moments before dissipating.

Obviously, she wasn't fully possessed, though. She still had control over her thoughts. While she was awake, there was no voice in her head urging her to kill. No one making her body convulse wildly or do out of character things. It just so happened that when she went to sleep, she didn't know what she had done until she woke up the next morning and saw the consequences of her involuntary actions.

But still, just the thought that she was being possessed at all –

"Azula." Of course it was Draco's voice that disrupted her thoughts. He always seemed to know when her thoughts were becoming too complicated.

"Fine." Azula waved as nonchalantly as possible. She didn't want to see the concern that was certain to enter Draco's eyes at her noncommitted answer. Avoiding his gaze, she turned to face Malia. "You're a prefect. I assume you'll retrieve Astoria."

Azula didn't bother waiting for her answer, turning on her heel and exiting the hospital wing, leaving Draco, Malia, and a petrified Zuko behind. She could hear Draco hurrying after her but paid no attention to him.

She needed to rid herself of her troublesome thoughts, and the Room of Requirement was the perfect place to do so.

Maybe ambush was too strong of a word, Astoria thought to herself, but she couldn't come up with another word to describe what had just happened to her. She had been minding her own business, walking down the corridors of Hogwarts after her last evening class on her way to the Slytherin common room. It wasn't dark enough in the corridors for it to truly be considered night, but she could no longer see the sun filtering in through the windows. She expected that she'd be able to go back to the common room and study, but it seemed like fate had other ideas for her.

A hand gripped her arm, whirling her around and dragging her in the opposite direction. The hand's owner wasn't facing her, but she did seem familiar. Tall and slender. Curly black hair.

She couldn't be looking at anyone other than Malia di Angelo.

"Malia, what –" Astoria couldn't say more than that before the girl in question turned around, pointing her wand at her.

"Muffliato." Malia's tone was clipped, completely emotionless as she murmured the spell. She said nothing more before continuing to walk.

Astoria tried to talk, most likely to demand where she was being taken, but found that she was unable to. Using her free hand, as the other one was quite occupied, she grabbed at her throat. She tried humming but found that she couldn't even feel the vibration in her throat. She wasn't exactly sure what the effect of the Muffliato spell was, but she was beginning to have a pretty good idea. Reluctantly, she settled for glaring heartily at the older Slytherin, who wouldn't turn back to look at her.

"Don't give me that look." Malia snapped without turning around, her stride increasing to the point that Astoria almost had to jog to keep up. "This is for your own good."

So caught up in her current situation, Astoria didn't take note of the route that Malia was taking her through. She didn't notice how they were ascending various staircases. Took no time to observe the few students they encountered along the way – their silhouettes blending them into nameless and faceless Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. In fact, when Malia finally stopped pulling her around, she didn't even realize that they were standing in front of a blank wall, one that soon morphed into a door. In vain, she tried to pull her arm out of the Slytherin prefect's grasp but was only successful once the two of them were inside the room that had just been made available to them.

Spotting Azula and Draco calmly lounging on one of the many chairs in the room, she furiously stormed away from Malia and made her way towards her friends. She pointed to her throat before pointing accusatorily at Malia, repeating the gesture several times for maximum clarity. When her gesturing was only met with blank stares, she sighed – soundlessly, thanks to Malia.

This was going to be a long evening.

"She kidnapped me!" Astoria shrieked, the first words out of her mouth when Azula had so graciously unsilenced her with a mocking smirk. Her finger was still pointed at Malia, who looked unaffected.

The elder Slytherin shrugged, taking a seat across from Draco and Azula.

"I did what was necessary for you to come with me." Malia deadpanned, folding her hands neatly in front of her. "Time was of the essence, and explaining things to you would've taken too long.

Azula bit back a laugh at the incredulous look on her younger friend's face. Reddening cheeks. Mouth agape. Eyes wide. She didn't think she'd ever seen Astoria so worked up. Then again, the younger Slytherin had a flair for dramatics, so it was possible that she wasn't even truly upset. She bit her lip instead before realizing what a submissive gesture that was. Setting her mouth in a firm line, she addressed her fellow Slytherins.

"Now that we're all here, one of you," Azula pointed between Draco and Malia, "can explain exactly why this group meeting has been called. I don't appreciate being in the dark, and it's not as if we're all friends here."

Her later words were directed at Malia and if the Slytherin prefect felt offended, she didn't show it. An almost amused smirk tugged at the brown-eyed girl's lips, but the rest of her features remained impassive. A stray hair had fallen into the prefect's face and with what must have been a practiced ease, she tucked it behind her ear.

"Fair point." Malia mused aloud. "We may not be friends, but we share a common goal in that we want to get to the bottom of this petrification mess."

Azula took in Malia's formal posture. The way she was sitting with her back completely erect. The way her hands had never moved from their folded position. The way her eyes focused solely on her without any nervous fluttering. The room around them, having previously been lit by candles around them, now displayed an almost somber hue – the candles just barely lit. The air wasn't too humid, but it wasn't the freezing chill that the previous winter had brought. Something about the scenario reminded her of a war meeting in the Fire Nation. Whether it be the formality or the tense air, she didn't know, but she was suddenly very aware of what exactly Malia was aiming at.

"You want to work with us." Azula hadn't intended it to be a question, but Malia responded like it was nonetheless.

"Yes." Malia's voice was even, no trace of a tremor within it. "We can be useful to each other. The three of you obviously know something more about the attacks than you're letting on, and I know Hogwarts in and out."

At this, Astoria, who had been silent after her kidnapping allegation, scoffed. Her brows were knitted downward but despite the indignance written on her face, it was Draco who spoke up.

"So do we." And Azula was reluctantly impressed by the confidence in his tone. "You may have seniority here, but that doesn't mean we're novices."

If Azula were expecting Malia's face to show surprise, she would've been sorely disappointed. The elder Slytherin's facial features gave almost nothing away, though her lips twitched just the slightest. The tiniest of crinkles appeared near her eyes, letting the Firinian princess know that the older girl was faintly amused.

"Are you really going to deny the help of a prefect?" Malia's smug tone belied her amusement, and Azula had to admit – she had a good point.

Having a prefect as an ally could come in handy for late night excursions around the castle. They wouldn't have to rely on the help of the Marauder's Map to sneak around, and they also would have excuses for being awake past curfew. All in all, having Malia's help could only be beneficial to them. She seemed sincere enough, in Azula's opinion, and her opinion had never led her astray before.

"Very well." Azula murmured calmly, extending her hand towards the prefect, who took it in stride. "Welcome to the group.

With her words out in the air, she could hear Astoria's shocked gasp and Draco's quiet hum, but she didn't focus on those reactions. Maybe she'd have to explain her logic later but for now, her friends would have to trust that she knew what she was doing.

Author's Note (5/1/18): So, I'm gonna stop placing deadlines on myself, because this obviously isn't working out T_T. My update schedule should be back to normal (once a week) by the end of this month. That should give me enough time to sort out college finals and work obligations. Sorry again, and thanks for the continued patience.