I apologize for the lateness. My computer recently crashed, and anyone who's had that happen to him knows what a JOY that is to deal with.

A quick recap for those who don't remember: Ron is in the hospital with Harry, Hermione is trying to chase down a doe patronus, and Alphonse has started painting for reasons which you may or may not have guessed.

It had been a while since he last painted. Back in 1911, Granny Pinako had bought an art kit in order to help Ed work on his fine coordination skills with his new automail. Ed—never having been one for drawing—abandoned the kit by the end of the week. Alphonse had rescued the box from the trash and took to painting during those many long nights alone. He was quite good, if he did say so himself; having a steady hand from drawing so many transmutation circles came in handy.

Al had been painting sometime between one and two hours when Hermione returned to the tent looking rather downtrodden. Her hair was full of leaves and twigs, one of shoes was missing, and a nasty-looking gash ran down her face.

Alphonse gaped. "What happened?"

She stared down at the floor, miserable. "I lost the doe. It was too fast for me to keep up. I tried to rest against a tree, but I didn't realize it was inhabited by a bowtruckle."

"A what-truckle?"

"A bowtruckle. Tree dwelling beast. That's how I got this," she pointed to her bleeding face. "Their scratches are annoying but benign," she added quickly before Alphonse could express concern. "Then I lost my shoes trying to get away from it." She pulled a twig out of her hair and sighed. "It was probably for the best, anyway. Chances are, the thing was cursed."

"We should probably wait here until the others come back."

Hermione nodded in agreement. Eager for a change of topic, she peered over at Al's theorems. "How are your equations coming?"

"They're almost done, but I've…um…hit a little bump in the road. You see, the books that Ron got me use a ton of weird terminology I don't know," he gave a little shrug, "usually I'm good at deciphering these things on my own, but at least I home I have the necessary background."

Hermione crouched down to get a better look at his work. "That symbol over there," she pointed to a small loop shape. "That means to distill, right?"

Al took a look for himself. "It does. How did you know that?"

"I read it in a book. Hogwarts: A History has sample N.E.W.T questions in the back for all subjects and alchemy is an optional class at Hogwarts. Every year, incoming sixth and seventh years who are interested sign up and if enough people come forward, they have a class. I tried to get a class going two summers ago. I'd bought the necessary books and was all ready."

"What happened?"

Hermione's cheeks turned slightly red. She looked down, embarrassed. "I was the only one to sign up. Apparently Hogwarts hasn't had an actual alchemy class since 1983. It's fallen mostly out of practice in Britain. I doubt the bulk of Hogwarts students even realize that it's an option." She shrugged. "I hear it's mandatory at other schools, though."

"If you know that alchemy exists in world, why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Like, I said, it's fallen out of practice in most places. Besides, what you're doing doesn't look like the kind of alchemy I read about. In fact, it doesn't look like magic at all."

"That's what I keep trying to tell you guys. There. Is. No. Magic."

Hermione frowned. "Well, that's hardly—"

"The world is like a steam engine or a prosthetic limb; everything does its part in order to establish an efficient end product. That much is evident when we look at the food chain or the periodic table. We may not understand what every screw and bolt does, but that doesn't mean it doesn't serve a purpose. It can all be explained because it's all linked. One is all and all is one."

Alphonse had no doubt Hermione understood his analogies, but the underlying message seemed to be lost on her. She furrowed her brow in confusion, evidently trying to understand what he was getting at. Finally, she opened her mouth and spoke. "You mean like monism?"

"What?"

"It's the religious idea that everything exists as one unit. Not in a homogeneous way, but—"

"But in the sense that everybody plays their own part. I think I understand what you're getting at. Yeah, it's kind of like that. But it's more of a philosophical worldview than a religious one. At least to me and Brother." Without thinking, Al's helmet turned to the painting on the floor.

Hermione's eyes followed his gaze. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. Evidently she had not noticed his project until now. It did not take long for her to figure it out, though. "That's him, isn't it? Your brother Edward."

"Yeah."

She reached out to grab it, stopping short only a few millimeters. "May I?" Al nodded and she carefully picked up the painting. "This is phenomenal, Al! When did you make it?"

"I finished a few minutes ago, actually. Do you really like it? I thought it looked too linear. And his eyes are too big for his face."

"No, I like it. It reminds me a bit of one of those Japanese cartoons." Hermione handed the painting back to Al. "What do you plan to do with it?"

"Well, you know how Phineas is kind of alive even though he's just a painting?"

"Yeah. What are you…oh." Al didn't like the look on Hermione's face. "Alphonse, that's really advanced magic you're talking about."

Uh oh. This wasn't good. Out of the (admittedly few) wizards he had met so far, Hermione was clearly the most advanced. If she couldn't enchant the painting, then who could? He didn't know why he was surprised. Anything that could animate or even partially animate the inanimate was bound to be far from simple. And Hermione was just a kid.

Ed animated your armor when he was only eleven, whispered a little voice in Al's mind.

Yeah, but that was through a completely different means, he countered. Besides, Brother isn't exactly your typical kid. He's exceptional. A prodigy.

Haven't these guys also proven to be exceptional?

Al pushed the voice out of his conscious. He couldn't think ill of Hermione and the others. Especially after all they had done for him. But at the same time, he couldn't give up. Not when he was so close to hearing his brother's voice again. "Do you think…do you think you could try?"

Hermione hesitated and nibbled on her bottom lip. "Well, I mean, it would take several hours—not to mention rather liberal use of transfiguration in order to get all of the necessary materials—but I did come across a potion that might help. Granted, I don't how much—"

"Oh, thank you! Thank you! THANK YOU!" The armored boy pulled her in to a massive hug, only letting go when Hermione expressed that she was being suffocated.

"So let me get this straight: the potion—I mean the thing—I just swallowed is going to help you see through my body to find out what's wrong with it?"

Dr. Bennett moaned in annoyance. "Yes. That is the plan."

Ron raised a scarlet-colored eyebrow. "And you are absolutely, positively certain there is no magic involved? Not that magic exists or anything," he added quickly.

It took Harry every ounce of his willpower not bang him on the head with the doctor's clipboard. There was only so much confunding he could do. Merlin, why wouldn't he stop talking?

The doctor, to his credit, merely smiled good-naturedly (and a bit pityingly) at the redhead and shook his head. "Sometimes I feel that way. But no. The barium sulfate is just a compound that will show up easily on the x-ray so we can see what's bothering you."

"I already told you what was bothering me."

Now even the doctor seemed to be losing his nerve. "Yes, and you were very helpful because your descriptions have helped us narrow the possibilities down to only a few ailments. Now, wait here. I'll be back shortly with the x-ray equipment."

Ron waited until the doctor left the room to speak. "Remind me why we can't go to St. Mungo's again?"

"Because odds are Volde—You-Know-Who," Harry hated having to use that euphemism, but after what happened at the café with Ron, it didn't seem like he had much of a choice, "has taken it over just like every other goddamn corporation in our world." Harry inhaled sharply and forced himself to relax. "Trust me, Ron, it may not look like it, but the muggles know what they're doing." Ron still looked grumpy, so he continued his efforts to pacify the boy. "Remember that we're not staying here any longer than we need to. As soon as you're stabilized we can return to camp and—"

"Sir?" A pretty blond nurse stuck her head into the room. "Sir, we're going to have to ask you to step out for a moment."

"How come?"

"We're about to perform the x-ray and we can't have a bystander exposed to the radiation."

Radiation? What was…oh right. That thing. Sometimes Harry forgot how little he actually recalled of the muggle world.

Dutifully, he stepped outside, doing his best to ignore the frantic protests from his friend.

"Harry? Where are you going? What are they putting on me? Help! Help, I can't move!"

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "That's just an apron, Ron. It shields you from the rays. You can move just fine."

Just breathe, Harry. It will all be over soon.

And it was. Only a few seconds later, Harry was ushered back into the room to find a confused Ron slowly removing his lead apron.

"That was it?"

"That was it," Harry confirmed.

"Bloody hell," he breathed. "How is a thing like that even possible?"

Harry shrugged. "Beats me."

"Are you sure it worked?"

"Are you sure it worked?" The trepidation in Al's voice was in no way disguised.

"It's hard to say," Hermione admitted, looking over the painting with no small amount of interest herself. She had never seen a magical portrait "born" before. "We should probably wait a minute and see if—"

The painting blinked, its strikingly golden eyes seemed to come into focus. It really was a stunning sight to behold and Hermione found herself truly studying it for the first time. The detail was incredible. His long, blond hair was tied back in a plait with uneven bangs and a small antenna-like spring sticking up on top. His face was mostly round, but it came to an abrupt, almost pointed end. And his eyes…what could she say about his eyes? They were no doubt the part Al paid the most attention to: wide-set golden orbs with long lashes that seemed to be on a permanent angle.

While undoubtedly male, there was something undeniably feminine about his features. He was a pretty boy, there was no way around that. But there was something else, something mysterious and intriguing that his Japanimation angularity only emphasized further.

Al let out a strangled sort of gasp. He was trembling, Hermione noted. The boy was completely overcome with awe and joy. She could hardly blame him.

"It worked."

Hermione, meanwhile, was also hardly unable to contain herself. She had done it! She had actually done it! She brought this painting to life. As if drawn into a trance, her hand drew forward, mesmerized by the creation, until her finger tips nearly grazed the parchment.

Alphonse stepped forward, at least he had stopped shaking now (mostly.) "B-Brother?"

The portrait blinked again, its painted face scrunched up in confusion. Hermione braced herself as it opened its mouth. She was ready to hear what the creation had to say. God, this was exhilarating.

"…Why are a person's fingers in my face?" Hermione's eyes widened and she quickly withdrew her and, mortified.

"Big Brother?"

The golden eyes turned to the direction of the sound and Hermione remembered why he was created in the first place. This was the moment of truth. With bated breath, she watched "Ed" stare blankly at the armor in front of him for several long moments. She didn't understand. Had the magic gone wrong? Did Ed's painting not recognize his own brother? Merlin knew it would break Al's heart. If there was just something she could—

The eyes widened with sudden realization. "…Al?" He grinned. "Alphonse!"

Hermione had no doubt there would have been tears from the younger brother if he were flesh and blood. If there had been any lingering doubts in her mind about Alphonse's humanity, it sure as hell was gone now. The horcrux's happiness was so intense it felt contagious. Hermione couldn't help but smile along.

"Oh Brother! I can't believe it's really you!"

Ed snorted. "Well, who else would it be?"

"I have so much to tell you. I—"

The flap of the tent opened and two shivering boys stepped in, both soaking from head to toe. There was definitely a story there.

"Hate to interrupt, Ron said, "but—wait." He pointed to Ed. "Who's she?"

Not my best chapter, but it makes way for a few interesting story arcs.

I'm not entirely sure of the nature of Ed's painting yet. I feel like it could go in several directions. If anyone wants to have some input, the review button is below.

Coming up: Ron's diagnosis, a game-changing realization, and some familiar faces.

urs-v: Thanks. And yes, it is a cruel world indeed.

Ai_Jay: Martel was one of Greed's human chimeras—a snake to be specific. In both series(es?) she is stabbed to death in Al's armor.

Dissonant_Toxophilite: Phineas is lots of fun! I'm not sure when I'll get around to his story, though. It could be a while.

Guest: Not quite a stick figure, but the anime painting style was a shout out to your comment. It was also a "screw you" to the fourth wall.

Sprite_Blazer: I'm glad you tried it anyway. Thank you for the review.

FullMental_Panic: I feel like that's a big part of Al's character in general. He contemplates morality quite a bit in the show, too. Hermione, also, probably spends a good amount of time mulling things over in her head. I'm glad I was able to portray both of their dilemmas convincingly.

Mintress_345: Thank you. The reason behind it is actually that I lack the patience to keep writing a single scene for 2000+ words, but I'm glad that I'm able to pull off my laziness with style.

Serendipital: Thanks.

Yuyake no Okami: People reacting to strange environments is one of my favorite things to write about. At least Ron has Harry with him. Otherwise, he'd be screwed for sure.

Prince Yarar: Thank you. Romances have never been my favorite so I tend to stray away from them.

Guest: Yep.