A bit of a short chapter, but a crucial one.


Harry Potter's worst fear had come true: he had decided to work with Alphonse, and now one of his best friends was in danger. He should have never let Ron go out to buy those stupid books. This mess was all his fault and he needed to go out and correct it.

"No." Hermione's tone was flat and left no room for argument.

Harry didn't care. "What do you mean 'no?'"

"I mean that you're not going out to get him. Your life is too valuable to risk." He snorted and waved his hand dismissively. "No, listen to me," she continued, "right now you are impulsive and out of practice. You've been in bed with a fever all week, you're not thinking straight—"

"You're the one who's not thinking straight!" Harry growled, the sudden volume in his voice catching even Alphonse by surprise (why the hell were they allowing the horcrux in the room with them, anyway?) "Ron's in danger, Hermione. And every second we waste arguing, he could be dying. Who cares if I'm a little sick?"

"And do you think that I'm any less capable of helping him than you are?"

"No! What I'm saying is that I have a responsibility to go after him. This is my burden to carry, Hermione. Not yours." What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she see the sense in what he was saying? They didn't have time for this, dammit!

Hermione stomped her foot on the ground and fixed her eyes on Harry with a look of pure poison. "Not everything is about you. It's my burden too. Do you think I didn't know what I signed up for this year? Are you under the impression that I don't realize this is life-threatening? I have the same responsibility as you. The only difference is that I don't have a prophe—"

"I WON'T LET ANYONE ELSE DIE BECAUSE OF ME!" The words came out uncharacteristically shrill and Harry grimaced when he caught sight of his friend's terrified expression. He inhaled sharply. "Look," he said with as much calmness as he could muster at that moment, "I need you to guard the tent. If Ron and I don't return by nightfall, you know what to do."

The suit of armor tentatively raised a hand. "I think that if anyone should go out there, it should be me. It's my fault he's in danger, anyway. And besides, your sticks don't affect me unless they hit my bloodseal."

"So you think that we're suddenly go to trust you?"

"No. I'm asking you to take a small risk that will almost certainly play out in your favor…uh, Hermione? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Harry turned around. The bookworm was studying Alfonse with a scrutinizing expression on her face and a sly gleam in her eyes that was more than a little unsettling.

"'Mione, what is it?"

The bushy-haired girl looked at the two and grinned widely. "I think I have an idea."


"This is…really weird."

"I'm not enjoying this anymore than you are," Harry grunted from inside of the armor. "I mean, this whole situation seems oddly, I dunno…sexual."

A shudder of horror went through the suit. Alphonse hadn't thought of it like that when Martel was inside of him, but now that Harry brought it up…well, it was a person wearing another person. "Ugh. Stop." If he were human, Alphonse would've definitely gagged. The echoing sounds of Harry's amused laughter only made the situation worse.

"I'm only joking," the British boy assured him.

"I…I know that! It's just not funny. It's…ugh…so….gross! Why would you even bring that up?" Alphonse suspected his feelings of repulsion had to do with the fact that he hadn't exactly gone through puberty. His voice was still high-pitched and whatever form of him living at the Gate certainly wasn't experiencing normal hormonal development. Sure, he was mature beyond his fourteen years, spent most of his time around adults, and knew the human body inside and out, but none of that changed the fact that sex was icky.

Also, having a person inside of him just felt plain wrong. He couldn't exactly feel Harry per se, the closest comparison was like an itch he couldn't get rid of. But it was the psychological implications of someone so close to his bloodseal that bothered him more—although the seventeen-year-old's joke about their apparent intimacy definitely hadn't made Alphonse feel any better about the situation. He felt awkward, vulnerable, and incredibly creeped-out. Although, admittedly, it was nice to finally have his legs back.

Harry knocked on him from the inside of his chest plate to get his attention. Al really wished he'd stop doing that. "Hey, hurry up. Ron could be dying!" Did Harry really think he didn't know that? Al, however, complied and increased his speed. "Ow!" Harry complained as his head smashed against the metal interior. "Not that fast!"

"No, you were right. We can't keep up this speed if we want to have a realistic chance of getting to Ron. Just brace yourself."

Harry groaned, but didn't argue. They continued to run for several more minutes. "Why did I agree to this again?"

"Because we both care about Ron's safety and you going inside of me was the most practical choice for everyone. This way we can rescue Ron, you don't get hit by any spells, and I can finally prove to you that I'm trustworthy." Also, being within reach of my bloodseal was the only way you'd ever let me out of the tent.

"Oh yeah."

Navigating through the city was much more difficult than Al had originally assumed it would be. Those super fast cars seemed to be all over the place and they would come speeding out of absolutely nowhere! Al counted four times so far that he had nearly been hit. Even the busiest intersection in Central couldn't compare to this. And it wasn't just cars—bicycles, motorcycles, and scooters, not mention strange-looking boards with wheels—everything in Edinburgh seemed positively determined to slow down his progress. It was all so futuristic and alien to the armored teen.

Alphonse tried to ignore the strange looks he kept getting from random pedestrians. The sight must have looked ridiculous, after all: a seven-foot-tall tall man in a suit of antique armor arguing with himself in a childish voice. Although to be fair, some of the people were doing things that made Alphonse want to stop and gape at. Despite the mild weather, children his own age passed by wearing shiny earmuffs. Adults shouted into what appeared to be some sort of telephone without a chord. And all around him Al heard words that sounded like nonsense: Television, Pokémon, Furby, Tamagotchi, McDonalds, The Simpsons, email, pager, Nintendo, MP3s, Nirvana, Barbie, Doritos, and the World Wide Web. It was almost like he was in a whole different…oh wait.

He stopped short when a loud wailing sound filled the air. "What's that?"

"Those are sirens. I bet they're the muggle authorities trying to crack down on the Death Eaters. Can you follow them?"

"Yeah. Hold on."


In retrospect, running towards the people trying to kill him while already on the verge of passing out from exhaustion was not one of Ron Weasley's best plans. But it was too late to turn back now. He had promised Jessica's mother that he would save the people back in the café.

"Honestly, Ronald, of all the idiotic ideas you've ever had," he mumbled to himself, "this one…exceeds at least three!" As he chuckled quietly to himself at his bitter attempt at humor, Ron noticed how hollow and hoarse his voice sounded and it occurred to him with disturbing clarity that he might actually die. Sure, this wouldn't be the first time he'd experienced such a feeling—on his seventeenth birthday Ron had been positive he was a goner, or at least in his few hazy memories of the actual poisoning. Looking back further, Ron recalled numerous events—some more clearly than others—where his immediate life had been in jepardy. Images of Devil's Snare, brains wrapping around his arms, and Sirius Black coming at him with a knife flashed through his mind. Hell, he'd looked death right in the face during that freakish chess game in his first year without a second thought. But those times were different, he realized. This time you're alone.

He could turn back now if he wanted. He could look the other way and run for his life. That would be the smart way of action. The logical one. But now wasn't the time for logical decisions. If he didn't act now these people would die.

People who wouldn't even be in danger in the first place if it wasn't for me, Ron realized with no small amount of guilt. It was his right—no, his responsibility—to protect them. With that thought in mind, he charged into the café, wand at the ready and prepared to give those damn Death Eaters everything he had

…And then a beam of pink light hit him straight in the chest.

Ron hadn't heard the incantation and he couldn't think of a single spell that gave off a pink glow, but anything that came from a Death Eater couldn't be good. Ron expected to die, lose consciousness, or at least feel excruciating pain. Instead, he felt, well, nothing…at least right away. After a few seconds, there was a slight tugging feeling in his abdomen, but no pain. Ron didn't wait to find out if there would be, he aimed his wand at the closest skull mask to him. The Gryffindor didn't bother to wonder why the man, who clearly saw him running, took no noticeable action to stop his approach.

"PETRIFICU—ARRGHH!" Ron fell over as the pain suddenly quadrupled in intensity. The agony was swiftly followed by the most powerful wave of nausea the redhead had ever experienced in his life. For a few seconds Ron genuinely feared that he was in danger of throwing up his internal organs if dared to so much as open his mouth. The feeling only lasted a short while, and with a bit of teeth gritting, he managed to return to his feet, though the urge to vomit still lingered. What was going on? What kind of curse was this?

With his knees still wobbling, Ron was barely able to let out a confringo to avoid being pounced on by an unusually fat Death Eater.

Ron side-stepped a crusio, but his counter-curse missed its target by mere inches. His head was spinning. He couldn't keep this charade up much longer. He had to get the muggles out of here.

"Look out!" a woman shouted, giving Ron just enough time to jump out of the way of a giant green flash. His stomach lurched; that was close. Far too close.

"Hey, lady!" he said to the woman. "Get out of here. Drag whoever you can with you."

The woman hesitated and Ron followed her eyes across the room to a stiff body lying on the floor. Oh shit.

"CHRISTOPHER!" she screamed, her arm reaching out to the dead man. Ron froze. What could he do? He looked around. Out of the six original attackers, there were still three that remained fully mobile and one who was hobbling around. Roughly fifteen muggles remained in the café, most of those that remained conscious were either hiding in the back or withering in agony on the floor. Why weren't they escaping? Then he realized with a sinking feeling that the Death Eaters were blocking the doors. Those bastards had even reinforced the windows so that nobody could smash through them! Ron could hear muggle sirens in the distance, but he doubted they could reach the place in time, let alone do anything once they actually got there.

He was about to tell the woman once again to move, when a massive explosion shook the building and a wall nearly collapsed on him. What the…?

A giant suit of armor stepped into the café, fixing its beady red eyes on Ron.

"Did you remember to get my books?"


Things to look forward to: The aftereffects of Ron's curse, pros and cons of magical portraits, and at least a moderate amount of Phineas sass.

I don't have much confidence in writing actions scenes. If any of you guys have ideas or suggestions, please let me know.

To my reviewers:

Kale Of The Dragons: Haha, yeah. It wasn't exactly subtle.

urs-v: Interestingly enough, Angus Buchanan exists as both in the Harry Potter universe and as a real figure in our world. I don't know if he had a cat, but Rowling says that he was a squib discarded by his family who later went on to become one of Scotland's most famous rugby players, later publishing My Life as a Squib in the wizarding world. Look up his backstory if you're interested, I find the whole thing to be really cool.

This_Cat_What_Did_That: Thank you :)

Fandom Jumping Expert: Yep.

Leo_Inuyuka: Hopefully in a good way?

Kenzie Perth: Thanks. I'm not sure when I'll post the Phineas story, but it probably won't be for a while because I have a lot of other stuff I want to get done. Right now I'm working on this fix and one (as of yet) unpublished Fullmetal Alchemist story that I am kind of obsessed with.

Guest: Haha, so true.

Miss_Moe: I'm finding him to be a unique character to write-especially when juxtaposed to Alphonse. I'm glad that you like it so much and thank you for the kind review.

Legendarily Quiet: I have faith that they'll be okay. Especially now that Alphonse is with them.

The_Awesome_Us: I WANT ALPHONSE JUICE!

Keef_a_Mighty: Thanks. I figured that would get a chuckle out of people.

Ai_Jay: Don't worry about the too lazy to log in part. I get that all the time. There was nothing particularly significant with Travers's name, he's just one of the Death Eaters.

Sky Veneziano: Thank you.

calcu22: Thanks.

eha1234: Thanks.

Guest: Thank you and yes it was.

Full_Mental_Panic: Phineas's page on Harry Potter wiki links to the Black family tree. The tree contains information that Phineas lived from 1847-1925 and that he had a brother named Sirius (a name that would later show up trice more in his family) who died in 1853. It is also known that Phineas Black was headmaster of Hogwarts for some period of time. So I pretty much used that cannon information and what I knew about his personality and had fun. As for the Ed portrait, it is intended to be disturbing. I have several plans for portrait Ed, some of which are the ones you discussed, and I'm not sure which one I'm going with yet. And I'm really glad you liked Ron's moral dilemma with erasing the minds of muggles. Now that Alphonse has pointed it out, this will not be the only time the idea haunts him.

Guest: Ed is coming relatively soon.

Kyuubi_No_Puma: Yeah.