A/N: I would like to thank everyone that took the time to read plus review, fave, or add to their alerts. It means a lot and I hope you continue being awesome like that. xD

About the chapter names . . . um, I'm very indecisive when it comes to them (because I want it to embody the entire chapter), so instead of dealing with it, I've decided to just name each chapter after an element. It's so much easier and looks better than just having 'chapter 1, chapter 2,' and so forth. Woo. Hah.

**Also, for those of those wondering about Ed's alchemy: no, he doesn't have it. He gave it up for his bro. It's mainly because everyone else seems to find ways for him to keep it and I thought it would be a little more original to not let him have it. And even though he doesn't, he will still kick some serious ass (I love Edo). Like I said, this story is focused mostly on Al and Ed, both will be playing the biggest roles in this story (as I enjoy writing them more than the HP cast).


2. Hydrogen


"I have other plans for you, Elrics."

Truth's words ring loud in Edward's ears, reminding him that Father had sent him to the Gate in an attempt to kill him. It had been denied, thankfully, but Edward had completely forgotten the fact that Father DID give something up in exchange for Edward's demise. Apparently it was sending him to another world - dimension - universe - wherever the hell here is.

He should have known that the Gate leads to more than just a black abyss, that there is an exit point. However, he wonders where Alphonse has disappeared to. Is he back in Amestris? Is that why they were forced apart the moment they passed through Alphonse's Gate?

He has given up his own use of alchemy for his brother's soul and body, Truth said it was enough, but how will he ever know that Alphonse is okay? That he still isn't sitting at the Gate, slowly withering away? The thought is powerful enough to cause him to stumble behind the mountain that is Rubeus Hagrid and place a hand against a nearby stone wall (apparently the infirmary is in a large castle known as Hogwarts) for support.

"Are ye okay, Edward?" Hagrid inquires, pausing in mid-step to peer back at the golden-haired boy. The action is appreciated, but completely unnecessary, Edward decides, and waves him off dismissively. Dumbledore, whom has been following from behind, places a hand on Edward's shoulder, his gaze focused on Hagrid.

"He's probably just faint from receiving such wounds to his head, Hagrid," the older man says, gesturing towards the blood staining Edward's face. "Do you remember how you received those wounds by any chance?"

What Edward wants to say is something along the lines of 'nosy old fuck', but considering the fact that they are going to heal his wounds, he settles for - "No, everything is a massive blur."

Dumbledore nods, seemingly convinced, and they continue onward.

After ten more minutes of walking, Edward quickly concludes that this Hogwarts place is nothing but a labyrinth of vast hallways and rooms, all interconnected, gloomy, and poorly lit. In fact, thanks to the dim lighting, he has begun to develop a headache - just great, you know, since he already had one to begin with.

Eventually they arrive at the infirmary and Edward is quickly ushered to a bed by a little old woman named Madame Pompfrey. She examines his head with gentle hands before shifting her kind stare onto Dumbledore. "Care to explain what has caused this young man such injuries?" Her gaze flickers to Hagrid and hardens. "You didn't let him get hurt did you? Huh?"

"No, no," Dumbledore insists, shaking his head, from side-to-side, "he appeared out of thin air and crashed through Hagrid's house, Madame, with no memory of how he arrived or how he received his injuries." Madame Pompfrey frowns and focuses back on Edward and pulls a stick? - the hell? - from her pocket.

"Now, deary," she begins, "I'll have these cuts healed in just a jiffy, yes?"

Edward blinks, confused, and wondering just what in the world this batty woman is about to do - when she waves the stick around and a flash of light shoots from the end, hitting him directly in the face and soothing any pain and discomfort he was previously feeling. He can only give her a dumbfounded look before frantically spouting: "What the hell was that?!"

"Language, young man!" Madame Pompfrey scolds, but goes unheard. Edward jumps to his feet and dashes to the closest mirror, eyes expanding into saucers when he notices that injuries have been healed - and just like that. No stitches, no ointments, no bandages, no nothing! Just a wave of Pompfrey's stick and he's all better! Almost like alkahestry, but with no circle, but then again, it would have taken longer than that!

"It's magic," Dumbledore answers, stepping beside Edward with a perplexed look upon his face (one that Edward himself is wearing). "You've never heard of it before?"

"Of course not!" Edward snaps. "Magic can't be possible! It defies everything I've learned - it bypasses equivalent exchange, the laws of nature, physics, and the conservation of matter - everything! I-It just can't be possible, dammit!" Because if it is, then alchemy - everything that's happened to him and Alphonse could have been prevented.

Dumbledore raises his eyebrows. "I do believe that Madam Pompfrey just proved otherwise, hmm?"

Edward bites his tongue, having no response in return, because the old man is right. It doesn't mean he's willing to accept it just yet, though. Therefore: "What about equivalent exchange? In order to obtain, one must give something of equal value in exchange."

All three give him looks of incredulity. He blinks. Had he said something odd?

Finally Dumbledore answers. "I'm afraid that none of that applies to magic."

Edward frowns, once again, wondering where the world he has ended up. Ultimately, he decides he doesn't want any part of this and launches himself from the sink in front of the mirror, heading for the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Madame Pompfrey chides, chasing after him like a worried mother hen fussing over her chick.

"My brother . . . he isn't with me. I need to find him." he declares, not caring for their reactions, because all that matters is finding Alphonse - if he is even here to begin with. He can't risk it though; an image of a thin, defenseless image of Alphonse comes to mind and causes a sharp pain to blossom in his chest. He stops walking, his breathing hindered.

"Perhaps we can be of assistance?" Dumbledore suggests. "Do you remember where you last saw your brother?"

Edward furls his fists tightly. "It doesn't matter," he says, "you can't help."

"Now, you don't know that unless ye try, lad," Hagrid remarks, his gruff voice booming. Sig and Armstrong would be honored to meet the man, no doubt. "I say ya stay with me until ya get an inkling of where yer brother might be. No need to rush off without knowing where yer goin'."

The former Fullmetal Alchemist hates to admit it, but the mountain man is right.

Well, fuck.


Molly cannot seem to keep her eyes off the frail before her, his chest rising and falling in even intervals, his thin face twisted in a pained expression. She wants to cry, but doesn't because it would frighten her children, but - she bites her bottom lip - who could be cruel enough to do this to a child? The thought of one of her children being in such conditions is enough to make her sick. Whoever did this - they deserve a fate worse than death, that much is certain.

Arthur left her side moments ago to check on the vat of strengthening potion boiling in the cauldron, leaving her to wave her wand over the boy and try to restore his bones and muscles. It's been successful thus far, yet he still hasn't awakened. It's worrisome.

When she has done all that she can (potions will have to do the rest), she conjures up a chair to sit upon and scoots close to the couch, reaching out to brush the boy's blond hair out of his face. It had been brittle when he had arrived a few hours prior, but thanks to magic, she was able to restore enough nutrients to restore a slight shine to it. However, the only way it will fully return to proper condition is by personal maintenance and eating healthy - both of which she will see to once he wakes up - IF he wakes up, she reminds herself.

She continues watching him breathe in a thoughtful silence, her hand moving to feel his forehead for a temperature, sighing in relief when he feels warm - not cold nor too hot, but just right. It lifts a heavy weight off of her shoulders, but she still can't decide what next.

Yes, they will make sure he drinks the strengthening potions; yes, she will offer him a place to stay until he's better; yes, she will contact Dumbledore, informing him of the mystery revolving around the boy's unexpected arrival -

She glances up when she hears a crashing from upstairs, not surprised to see someone's - most likely Ron's - scrambling, sock-clad feet push off the top step and dive down the hall in an attempt to not be seen. Molly rolls her eyes. Her children are too curious for their own good.

A moment later Arthur appears, eyes locked on the boy's form. "It's done," he begins, "but it won't be of use if he's still asleep. We should try to wake him."

Molly doesn't seem convinced and gives the boy a weary look. "I don't know about that, now, Arthur," she mumbles softly, "he looks restless, even while sleeping -"

"He's been through hell! Just look at 'em!" Arthur retorts in a harsh whisper then massages his forehead. "If we don't get that potion in 'em, he might not make it through the night."

Molly looks frazzled at the notion and sends her husband a heated glare. "Well, I've never!" she snaps. "I've stabilized his body the best I can; no one will be dying tonight." She gestures towards the child. "He needs rest. When he wakes up, he wakes up!"

"Fine, fine," Arthur says, raising his hands up in surrender. "We'll do it your way, darling."

Pleased, Molly averts her attention back onto the boy, hoping he will awaken soon. Her gaze softens when his face contorts, his eyebrows pinched tightly together. She cannot help but wonder what he's dreaming . . .


Complete paralysis; it's what Alphonse feels as he peers into the Gate, his throat too tight to form even a scream, a large crease in the vast blackness becoming visible until it splits to reveal a single, wide eye that quickly focuses on him, amused. His stomach knots with dread, yet he can't move, and mentally he panics, wanting a way out of this torment - he wants to call for Edward - for his father - his mother - Izumi - Winry - Granny - !

Spindly arms shoot out, clawing their way to him - and finally, his legs finally decide to work. He pushes off the ground and runs only managing to put ten feet of distance between himself and the Gate - when he is stopped by an ominous white figure, its face split with a wide, mocking, yet calculating grin. Truth. He collapses before it, knowing it's game over.

"Your brother gave his life for you -"

Alphonse clenches his eyes shut, slamming his hands over his ears to try and block out Truth's voice. "No! He's alive - he has to be!" Because if he's failed his brother, his only living relative, he will never forgive himself - and he's not sure he can take much more.

"Too pathetic to stand on your own -"

"Shut up!" he cries out, freezing when he feels the hands, cold to the touch, wrap around his ankles and begin to slide up his legs, slowly tightening. He gasps. No. No. No! "Stop, dammit!"

Truth cackles and steps aside, revealing a broken form behind him, doused in blood - the crimson liquid almost a shocking hue in comparison to the surrounding pasty white scenery - and feels his heart shatter when he realizes that this person has a golden blond braid trailing down to between his shoulder blades, the frazzled ends dyed red.

"Brother!" No answer. "Brother!" No answer again. "Ed! Edward! Please . . ." he chokes out desperately, reaching out for his sibling with a shaky hand, tears streaming freely down his cheeks. "Please! D-Don't . . . Don't leave me alone!"

A raw scream tears from his lungs and his eyes flutter open - when had he closed them? - a blinding light overwhelming his senses -

Only for him to come face-to-face with two frantic people; one a redheaded male and the other, a kind looking older woman, the latter of which has her hands pinning his shoulders down to something soft beneath him, her mouth forming various shapes, but the ringing in his ears blocking out any sounds. He gulps down hair, his body trembling, the sensations of the woman's warm hands on his shoulders like a series of electrical shocks racking his entire being - is he in shock?

He can't seem to get a grip; he's shivering, confused, and - oh God - brother! - where's Edward?

"B-Brother!" he manages to croak out, his throat sore and he bucks against the woman's hold. She tries to keep him restrained and he vaguely hears the male screech 'go to your rooms!' for some odd reason, when he manages to break free, a look of surprise crossing the woman's face. She stumbles backwards as he jumps to his feet, swaying and light-headed.

Man, he had forgotten what it feels like to be nauseous - it isn't pleasant. Nevertheless, he gets into a defensive stance, his legs slightly trembling due to lack of use over the years. He quickly conduces that exhaustion is a pain, too, but he has to defend himself. (He would liked to have taken the time to marvel at the fact that he has his body back, but that doesn't seem appropriate right now.)

If Edward was here, he would have already come to his defense, with him being in such a weak state - which means he's most likely not. Unless he's tied up somewhere - because, as far as he is concerned, if he and Edward went through his Gate at the same time, then shouldn't they both have come out at the same, exact spot? He grits his teeth. These people better not have done anything . . .

The chances of him winning this battle alone looks slim, even if it is just against two middle-aged adults. But if anything, with what he's dealt with, he knows better than to underestimate an opponent based upon their age. Lan-Fan's grandfather, Fu, comes to mind.

He narrows his eyes. "Who are you?"

The woman raises her hands in a sign of peace. He doesn't drop his guard in the least. "I am Molly Weasley," the female answers then gestures with a slight bob of her head at the male, "and that's my husband, Arthur. We won't hurt you, deary."

Alphonse observes the couple, his golden gaze flickering from the concerned expression hanging to their faces as if it will be enough to prevent him from pouncing on them to the clutter of the house and then back onto them. Then, he realizes just how odd they sounded, their words accented in a way he's never heard before. He frowns.

"Where are we?"

There's a pause of silence in which Alphonse wonders if either is even going to answer - when Arthur takes the initiative and cuffs a hand to his mouth to clear his throat before speaking. "Devon, England."

Alphonse's eyebrows raise upward - Devon, England? - he searches his brain for the location on the world map, being well acquainted with all the countries on the globe, but England doesn't even come to mind. In fact, that's the first time he's ever heard the word England. Then again, there are a chain of small countries far west - he might have overlooked it - or a civil war could have broke out in one of these countries recently and those that revolted managed to form their own independent nation.

That sounds plausible.

"How close is that to Amestris?" he presses. He has to get back to his brother. He has to. He clung to Truth's every word, and according to him, both of them were free. Edward's sacrifice was enough to pull them both from the Gate.

"Amestris?" Molly mutters, blinking in confusion. Alphonse's heart drops. It means she hasn't heard of his country, either.

"We've never heard of such a place." Arthur admits slowly, scratching the back of his head. "Aha! Is it near Cambodia?" Alphonse frowns - ignoring the fact that it is another place he's never heard of - and shakes his head. "Japan?" Another headshake in response. "Uh, how about Bulgaria?" Alphonse groans, where are these places?! Perhaps he isn't as familiar with a world map as he thought himself to be.

Regardless, this isn't getting them anywhere.

"It doesn't matter," he declares with a huff, "Can you explain to me how I ended up in this house?"

"It's a particularly odd situation to say the least, mister . . ."

"Oh, sorry - Alphonse Elric."

Molly nods and continues: "Alphonse, you see, there was this flash of light and the next thing we knew you came crashing down on our kitchen table! Stark naked no less! Oh, and so sickly, we've been trying to heal you up with magic, and you've come a long ways, actually -"

"Magic?!" Alphonse yelps, dropping his guard due to the high levels of shock he is experiencing. These people must be crazy!

"Um, yes," Arthur mutters. He looks at Molly and she shrugs. He blinks and adds: "You're a muggle?"

Alphonse twitches. What is a muggle? He's never heard the term before, but it sounds derogatory. ". . . Muggle?"

"A non-magical human being," Molly explains. "I just don't understand - the way you arrived, it could have only been magic's doing."

He can't tell them the truth: that alchemy was the cause - that he and his brother had to go through this due to a failed human transmutation five years ago. So, he doesn't.

"It's . . . uh, hard to explain." Alphonse answers, a wary and suspicious look making it's way onto his face. If these people believe themselves to be magicians, he seriously doubts he can trust them - or their sanity at least. "How does this magic work? What did you do to me?"

Molly and Arthur share a look that doesn't go unnoticed before a voice interjects from above - near the stairs: "Mum used a spell to strengthen your bones and muscles. She's spent a few hours at your side, making sure you're okay."

Alphonse jumps in surprise, his hands instinctively buckling in case he needs to clap them together and perform some quick alchemy, his eyes darting towards a thin girl lingering at the top of the stairs, her pale hands clinging to the wooden banister.

"Ginny!" Molly roars, startling Alphonse even further. "Get back to your room this instant!"

"I'm just trying to help!" the girl argues.

"Listen to your mother!" Arthur says, prompting the girl to roll her eyes and saunter off. Once out of sight, the adults focus back on the frail boy.

"Excuse her," Molly grumbles, "my children are nosy. Always have been - no matter how much I discipline them."

Alphonse blinks, an image of Trisha leaning over him with a gentle smile on her face, coming to mind. Mom . . .

For some reason, that statement alone gets Alphonse to see the two as concerned adults, not threats. Perhaps it's because in that moment, in Molly, the affectionate look he saw in her eyes, reminded him of his own mother. It was a look that she used to give him and Edward often when they had been children. And over the littlest of things.

He straightens up with a shaky breath. "I'm sorry for being so rude," he says softly, "I'm just confused about all this."

Both Molly and Arthur seem pleased and visibly relax. "No, it's understandable." Molly trills, "Waking up in a strange place with unfamiliar people hovering over you; it's bound to be terrifying."

"Yeah . . ." Alphonse mumbles, looking away, feeling depressed, "I'm guessing no one showed up with me, huh?"

"No, just yourself." Molly cocks her head to the side. "Why do you ask?"

Because of Edward, obviously - "My brother, he . . . I have to go look for him!"

"Not in that condition!" Molly screeches, approaching Alphonse and snatching one of his wrists. She tugs him back to the sofa and makes him sit. "Besides," she adds, "do you plan on going alone?"

"I'll be fine! Promise!" the fifteen-year-old says, trying to rise to his feet again - only to be pushed back down.

"You're just a child for heaven's sake! Close in age to my Ronald, no doubt!"

Normally, Alphonse would like the concept of someone treating him like a child, doting and caring (because he never had it growing up), but not right now. Not when his brother may be injured, lost, or worse. He doesn't like to think about it and he doesn't want to acknowledge that his brother is possibly in a frightening situation, but . . .

He shakes at the thought and clears his head. It's all he can do to keep going.

"It's been a long time since I was a child, Mrs. Weasley." he retorts, pauses, then: "I have to go. Thank you for everything -"

"I understand that finding a family member is important, but in your current state, you'll only end up getting yourself killed - and where will that end you up at, huh? I'm sure your brother wouldn't want that, either!" Molly says, her words striking a chord.

He clamps his eyelids shut tight. She's right.

Immediately he feels regret - what's the purpose of having his body if he can't protect those he cares for? He knew his body was weak from years of neglect within the Gate, he knew it, and yet he selfishly took the chance to reunite with it. He should have fought harder to prevent Edward from giving up his alchemy in exchange for such a useless younger brother . . .

"Y-yeah . . ." he says weakly, refusing to meet either Arthur's or Molly's eyes - if he does, he might lose control, and he can't afford that. "Would you . . . would you mind if I stayed here until I get better? I have no idea where I am - but I hate to impose - and you can refuse -"

Molly cuts him off with a warm smile. "Stay as long as you like."

Alphonse's eyes widen in genuine surprise, the corners of his lips twitching upward. How is that he and Edward manage to stumble across some of the most kind people during their travels? He can only hope that he doesn't bring ruin to this family - because he won't forgive himself - like he and Edward had to the Hughes. He winces, the wound still fresh in his heart.

No, he refuses to let that happen again.

"Thank you, Mrs. -"

"Just Molly, hearing Mrs. Weasley makes me feel older than the dirt in the ground!"

"Hah, Molly, my bad, thank you for your hospitality, but . . ." he trails off, rubbing at the back of his head in a sheepish manner.

Arthur rubs the bridge of his nose with an index finger and sighs. "You know, you can just spit it out, lad, we're not mind-readers and we're most certainly not going to bite ya!"

Alphonse chuckles and nods. "Care to explain magic to me?"

TBC


This chapter is mainly is a building block - as the first few chapters tend to be. It mainly involved the boys finding out about magic and Alphonse waking up. I didn't plan on the scene to be so long between Al and Molly, but it turned out that way because I felt I needed all the dialogue there in order for it to be believable.

As for Al's defensive behavior, he was confused and dazed - he thought his brother was going to be with him - and when he realized he wasn't felt threatened by Molly and Arthur, thinking they could have done something to Ed. I hope that's obvious in his actions!