A/N: This chapter was done before I posted the last one. It's weird to be so ahead. Anyways, thanks to those that took the time to share your thoughts! I really appreciate it!

Brick: I'm glad you're enjoying Al's involvement! I feel exactly the same - so many exclude him, or if he IS apart of it, he gets such a little role and is pushed to the background (usually acting like a wimp that can't defend himself - which irks me). That's why I am including him so much - that and he's my favorite character. xD

**I made a complete estimate to what Alphonse's weight would be. Eighty pounds might seem like a lot for how long he went without eating, but you've got to consider the fact that if he was anything less, being a male, plus his height, he would have died (most likely). You also have to remember how Ed was Al's source of life in the Gate - he was eating and sleeping for them both, which means he weighs more than someone that was just starved (he wouldn't have lasted over a few months if that were the case).

Note: I am not familiar with the Brits way of weight system, therefore I'm just going to use what I know - the U.S. way. Sorry if that bugs anyone - I just want it to be constant.

ALSO: I accidentally said that George and Fred are seventeen - they are NOT that old. They are SIXTEEN. Sorry!

But yeah, the first scene in this story should have already happened, but with the stresses of getting settled in Al didn't really get the time to do this. That's why it's so in depth!


4. Potassium


It takes a week for things Molly to stop fussing relentlessly over Alphonse, and when it does, he couldn't be anymore relieved. During the entire first week, she had him confined to a bed - "Your muscles and bones aren't ready to support your weight just yet!" - where he was forced to indulge in some of the most grotesque foods and potions in order to stabilize his frail body. Though, in the end, he supposes it was worth it, because he can now stand, walk, and run on his own. He's even managed to gain ten pounds during that week.

According to Molly, they needed to weigh him so they could monitor his progress properly.

He had only weighed eighty pounds; his goal is to get to one-hundred and ten by the end of the month, maybe more (he's got it in his head that he's going to eat like a horse, and with Molly's tendency to cook enough to feed a small army, it won't be a problem). If he manages that, then he can finally start looking for his brother.

For now, he has become interested in actually adjusting to his body - relearning what he had forgotten - which wasn't just being fascinated by the textures, temperatures, and weight of objects, or how it is to be able to smell and breathe again. Nope, there are a plethora of other senses, feelings, and urges he has to get used to.

Physical exhaustion, for instance, was so foreign at first that he had a hard time identifying just what it was that he was feeling. But when he laid his head down, his eyes heavy, his thoughts slowing (which was a miracle in and of itself as his mind hasn't properly shut down in five years), and he was swept away, he knew what it was that his body craved: sleep.

Then there is nausea. It sucks. He first experienced it again during dinner the first day he arrived in the Weasleys. Molly had prepared a casserole, something he's always loved to indulge in, and he gorged himself on it. He ate roughly four helpings before he had to excuse himself to go to the bathroom, worried his body was rejecting his soul - he felt that bad! - and locked himself in the tiny space, while his stomach rolled. Eventually he had a strange sensation in his throat and he just knew what to do: he leaped to the toilet and emptied his stomach of its contents.

Another strange urge is when he needs to go to the bathroom. He had downed four glasses of water upon waking the first day he was there due to his throat being so parched, that when he became uncomfortable he was slightly confused and wondering why his ahem - manhood - ahem had a sharp pain - but quickly realized what it was and had to be shown where to alleviate himself.

But the most odd sensation for him out of them all, which is really odd, is when his skin tingles in random places as if a feather has rubbed against it, requiring him to scratch it. Before he lost his body, he hadn't been ticklish, but now that he has it back, he has to be the most ticklish person he knows! When someone pokes him in the sides, he jumps, when someone barely grazes their finger across his skin, he shivers, and he actually likes it because it means that he is back in his body - he can feel - he is alive.

Of course, on the downside, that also means his skin is susceptible scratchy, pokey, or rougher textures. Which is unfortunate for him, because it seems that the only clothes Molly gives him to wear consists scratchy-as-hell sweaters (he won't even go outside since it's August) and stiff jeans. He wants to complain so bad about it, but he can't bring himself to - her and her family have already done so much for him. To complain in the slightest would just be wrong.

He yawns and sits up in his bed, glancing at the clock by his bedside that reads '8:13am'. Perfect. He pulls his long hair back in a ponytail and climbs down in the floor to try some stretches to work out the soreness in his rapidly growing muscles and stiff joints.

That brings up another sensation - one that isn't exactly his favorite in the least bit (but understandable why his reactions are so poor towards it considering he hasn't felt it in such a long time): pain.

The third day in the house, he was limping back to his bed when he his toe met one of its metal legs, successfully stubbing the digit. He had collapsed and cursed the bed and its maker with the mouth of a sailor. Even Edward would have been offended and appalled at the profane scene. It isn't his proudest moment, but he embraces it because it's his first, minor, albeit real, experience of pain after regaining his body.

Besides, he will toughen up before too long. After all, he still needs to prove to his older brother that he can whoop him.

Alphonse places his feet out in front of him and reaches for his toes, surprising himself when he actually manages to grab them. He figured his body would be as limber as a piece of sheet metal after all these years of disuse. He grins.

Perhaps getting in shape won't be so difficult - and he only has magic to thank for it. To think, just last week he would never have believed magic to be possible, but after spending a week with the Weasleys, seeing what their potions and wands can do, he has no choice but to believe. In other words: he may accept it, but he doesn't understand it.

In an attempt to, he's been spending some time in the family's study (when Molly let him get out his room, and when she didn't she would bring him some books to keep him busy), which is stocked full of magical textbooks, research journals, and encyclopedias. He understands the words, can remember the strange phrases and incantations for spells, combination of ingredients for potions, and the step-by-step procedures that are gone over, but still . . .

How is there no Equivalent Exchange? Conservation of matter? Physics? All of this is quantum theory! Yet, somehow it works and it is driving him nuts! Bonkers! Insane!

He's discussed it with Hermione, whom he has found to be the easiest of the household to get along with but a bit of a worrier herself, but she doesn't have an explanation for it either. In her words it 'just does'. There's no questioning it, no dissecting it, just acceptance.

Alphonse lays on his backs and attempts two sets of sit-ups, after he's done he lays back down, panting and wincing at the burning sensation in his abdominal. This is the only way to get healthy - he will just have to deal with it for now.

He closes his eyes and commences another set.


After spending a week and a half with Hagrid, Edward starts to become desperate about his brother's whereabouts.

He has no means to travel further than a few towns away and Hagrid's house is his only anchor point - his source of food, shelter, income, and knowledge. He's been mainly focused on studying maps, nearby tourist brochures, and all the towns and cities that are accessible via train, but thanks to Dumbledore, snagging books from Hogwarts' library is easy enough and has helped him understand this place a little better.

He had been amazed by the castle's vast library and all its contents, wondering just exactly what Hogwarts is - when Dumbledore explained to him that it is a school of witchcraft and wizardry. Though he detested the thought of magic, he can't deny its existence. He's seen Hagrid, Dumbledore, and a few of the staff use it for the most trivial of things: writing, levitating objects, and conjuring things out of thin air. He thought the latter of the three to be sketchy and checked the validity of all the conjured objects, but found them to be as real as he is.

In the past two days, he has become particularly interested magical runes, all of which can be incorporated into alchemy. He purchased a notebook from a store in a nearby town one day before coming back to Hagrid's and began taking notes - mostly pertaining to the runes, but also to certain words that are symbolic - or represent something else (mainly just in case he stumbles upon something coded).

Back on point -

Edward is desperate to get further along in his search for Alphonse. He's made flyers of Alphonse's face and posted them around a few of the towns he's been to in the hopes that if Alphonse were to come across one of those towns, he'd see it. But they haven't been much help either. He has to keep reminding himself that it has only been elven days and that it is possible that Alphonse is in Central City.

If only he had more money . . .

He's interrupted from his thoughts when Dumbledore waltzes into the library, the hems of his blue robes dragging the ground. Edward glances up from the book on a table in front of him and stares at the geezer as he approaches a nearby bookshelf. What does - halt that thought. He purses his lips, maybe he does have a way to make a little more cash.

"Old man," he calls, gaining the headmaster's attention. Dumbledore snatches a book from the shelf real fast and makes his way to Edward with raised eyebrows, not even remotely offended by the nickname he's bestowed upon him (though when he says it in front of a staff member they get all ruffled up - it's hilarious to watch really - and Edward always has enjoyed getting under others' skin).

"How are you today, Edward?"

Edward leans back in his chair, to get a better look at the man. "I am wondering if there's anything I can do around here - like a job."

Dumbledore hums low and rubs at his chin, mulling over his words silently. Edward watches him with a hopeful expression. At this point, he's willing to do anything to up his chances of find Alphonse - even if it means to, dare he say it, grovel.

Not knowing where Alphonse is - it hurts - eats at him at night, because if he isn't okay, then that means that his Gate wasn't enough - that Alphonse ended up paying the ultimate price. He growls at himself - it's all his fault: the transmutation - Alphonse had been hesitant but he pressed him to go on with it, because he was selfish - everything. Yet, in the end, somehow, Alphonse paid with more than Edward ever could: his entire body. It had almost cost him his life. He clenches his jaw.

It just isn't fair! It's not! It's not! It's -

"Actually, I do have something in mind -"

Edward jumps, his self-loathing thoughts momentarily halted, replaced by an overwhelming sense of hope. "You do?! What is it? Come on, old man: spit it out!"

Dumbledore looks amused at Edward's enthusiasm and nods. "Well, you see we just hired a new Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher, and even though classes don't start until next month, would you like to be his assistant? When he doesn't need you then you can run errands for some of the other professors. It's decent pay and the hours will allow you time to hunt for your brother."

The former alchemist frowns. He's hoping that he isn't here long enough to accept a job in September, but if he is then it most certainly would be beneficial to his cause. "Alright, I'll do it - but is there anything you need done now?"

"I'll have you fill out the paperwork later, alright?" Edward bobs his head in response. Dumbledore nods and continues, "As for right now, all we have open are jobs in the kitchen. They're mostly filled by house elves -"

"What the hell is a house elf?!"

"You've not read any texts on mythical or magical creatures?" Dumbledore inquires with his eyebrows arched high on his withered forehead. Edward shakes his head. "They're very small, have floppy ears, and are hard workers. You'll take nicely to them if you decide to accept my offer."

"To work in the kitchen?"

"Yes."

Edward crosses his arms. It does sound like a good deal, too bad he's a shitty cook. "What are the hours?"

"Not as bad as you'd think. During the summer they're ten in the morning until three in the afternoon, Monday through Friday." Edward opens his mouth to decline - because the hours don't correspond with his needs - but Dumbledore beats him to the punch - "However, seeing as I know your need to find your brother, you can take off whenever you please in order to search for him. How does that sound?"

The blond grins. Anyone would be stupid to turn down that offer. "You've gotta deal, pops. When do I start?"

"How about today?"


Molly feels nothing but relief when she finds Alphonse getting along with her children. They're curious little buggers, but the young blond seems to take it all in stride, answering the questions he wants to and kindly turning down the one he doesn't. Fred and George have tried to play pranks on him - "It's our way of welcoming him, mum!" - but she managed to dig her teeth into them, preventing them from making Alphonse anymore uncomfortable than what he already is.

Ron seems slightly indifferent towards him, including him in conversations and joking with him, but the moment Hermione enters the room, her attention focused on Alphonse, her son becomes a jealous mess. It's cute to see, but embarrassing when he snaps at Hermione (she taught her son to treat women better than that) and promptly exits the room, leaving Alphonse and Hermione both perplexed. Not that Molly can blame them due to Ron's behavior.

Ginny, on the other hand, seems to enjoy Alphonse's company. She says that 'he's nice and his jokes are kindly sarcastic, plus he's intelligent'. Molly doesn't think her daughter has a crush on Alphonse - she's always been so smitten with Harry. Nevertheless, the relationship has been good for Ginny (she's never been good at talking with boys that aren't her brothers) and being around Alphonse has opened that door for her.

Then there's Hermione.

She's not her daughter, but she's just as much a part of the family as anyone else - and like the others, she gets along with Alphonse, if not the best. The two of them spend a couple of hours in the library together, discussing books, theories, and other things. Hermione has even told her that she's surprised by Alphonse's ability to understand such complex concepts with little to no difficulty, along with his love of books that rivals her own and his innate talent for soaking up information like a sponge.

Molly smiles as she peers in the living room at the children, all talking. Yes, everything is going good.

Alphonse's recovery has been astounding. He's filling out quickly thanks to her potions and high-calorie meal plan for him. Within the past two weeks he has gained twenty-two pounds - now weighing in at one-hundred and two and standing at 5'6''.

He insists on helping out with the house chores, but she sternly declines, even though she does appreciate the gesture - but she does fine on her own with magic at her disposal. He's worried that he's being a freeloader, but she doesn't mind. She has to constantly remind the boy that her and Arthur invited him into their household as a guest, not a servant. It's just a matter of getting that through his head.

It only makes her more curious as to what he's been through. He acts as if he has to work hard just to deserve a bite to eat. The thought pains her.

"I just got our tickets to the Quidditch World Cup Final," Arthur announces shortly after apparating into the kitchen where Molly is. She glances towards him, her expression conveying that she is not amused in the least bit.

"I told you Arthur: I'm not goin'."

Arthur snorts. "I know you're not, dear. I only bought enough for me, the kids, Hermione, Harry -"

"You got Alphonse one, too, right?" She narrows her eyes and raises a hand, pointing at him. "You better not exclude that child -"

"I got him one. I was just about to say it, but you interrupted me." Arthur answers, taking a seat beside his wife and snatching up one of her hands. "You underestimate my intelligence. I won't exclude him because of his circumstances, however, I am wondering when we are going to tell Dumbledore about him."

Molly sighs. She's been considering that ever since Alphonse has shown up. But she's just gotten so attached to him in such a short while, especially after she finally got him to talk about his family in private - his parents aren't a part of his life, haven't been since he was very little, and he and his brother have been on their own ever since, taking care of each other. How can she not feel a strong urge to mother the boy? He's been through so much.

"Not until after the World Cup, how does that sound? He'll be better by then and possibly willing to talk."

Arthur shrugs. "That sounds reasonable."


A few words about Edward's new job? Kitchen from hell.

Over the course of five days (due to him having to use 'muggle' methods to cook), he has managed to catch two house elves on fire, blow up a turkey and a five-layer caked which ended up all over him and anyone in the kitchen at the time. He gave Minerva McGonagall food poisoning, had Severus Snape confined to the bathroom for five hours, and made Madame Pomfrey's lips fester up as a result of accidentally putting nuts - she's allergic - in a cake that doesn't even call for nuts.

To ensure nothing of the sort happens again, Dumbledore has assigned a house elf to Edward's hip at all times. When Edward needs something cooked, he and the house elf make it together. When he needs to clean something up (he accidentally poured a cleaning chemical on one of the house elves - that was a mess), the house elf helps him. It's annoying, but understandable.

In the end, those past five days were worth it, because he now has enough money to spend a few nights away, traveling from town to town without hinder, upping his chances of finding Alphonse.

Currently he is searching a town called Little Whinging. It took him a long time to get here, but now that he has, he isn't wasting any time (he's used to the odd auto-mobiles - they had been a shock - and the strange fashion most people wear). He's stopped by just about every house, describing his brother and flashing pictures he had drawn of him, saying his name, anything to get a lead.

So far all his efforts have proven useless . . .

One of his last stops for the day is one of the houses on Privet Drive. It's nice, like the other surrounding houses, its lawn trimmed, the flowerbeds well-maintained, and lights that line the walkway to the porch. It's roughly seven in the afternoon, not too late to go snooping, but too late to keep it up (well, that and his train leaves soon).

Edward raises a hand to the door and knocks. A moment later he can hear shuffling and whines of 'why do I always have to answer the door?' before said door comes flying open, revealing a beefy, older man with hardly no neck and a thick line of hair on his upper lip. His beady blue eyes only convey one thing in their depths: pure irritation.

The man looks at Edward for just a brief moment before turning his head to the side, "Dudley! I think this is one of your friends! He's small -"

Edward growls. "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU CALLING SO SMALL THAT HE COULD BE MISTAKEN AS PAPA SMURF?!"

The man looks at him as if he's grown a second head before shuffling out of the way, quickly replaced by an equally chunky teen about Edward's age. He looks him over once and frowns. "I don't even know you!" He points an accusing finger at Edward, whom, once again, doesn't get the chance to say what he wants to - "Harry! I think it's for you!" Dudley gives Edward a holier-than-thou look before storming back inside.

Just who the hell are these people? They're rude as fuck - and that means a lot coming from a guy with no manners himself!

Edward waits a few minutes, becoming increasingly irritated, when a mop of onyx hair catches his attention. A boy, much thinner than Dudley and the other man in comparison, with glasses framing almond-shaped green irises, and nearly the same height as Edward, emerges from the house. The boy eyes him with an apprehensive gaze, a frown slowly forming on his lips.

"Um, do I know you?"

"No, but I am wondering if you've seen a boy that looks like this -" He removes drawing of Alphonse out of his pocket. "Hair and eyes the same color as mine - really skinny and fifteen-years-old. His name is Alphonse Elric."

The boy contemplates his question a moment, then finally shakes his head. Edward feels his stomach knot up in disappointment (a sensation that he's grown accustomed to throughout the years). "I'm sorry, uh . . ."

"Edward Elric. Thanks for answering my question - I best be on my way then."

"No problem, Edward - I'm Harry Potter, by the way," the boy - Harry - says, a saddened expression on his face. There's a moment of (uncomfortable) silence where both look anywhere but each other. Then: "Is he your brother?"

"Yeah, my younger," Edward answers, turning away. "Thanks again, Harry."

"Sure. No problem."


"- the potion was a little strong -" George's voice rings throughout the twins' bedroom where Ron and Alphonse find themselves. Ginny and Hermione are in the former's room, discussing 'girly things that doesn't concern them' - Hermione's words, not his.

"- his armpit hair grew so long that it touched the floor -" Fred adds, grinning from ear-to-ear.

"- and he tripped because the hair got under both his feet!" George finishes proudly, as if concocting a potion that rapidly increases the growth of armpit hair is just amazing and should have been patented a long time ago (but in Alphonse's opinion is a little gross). Apparently, Ron agrees with his siblings and smacks his knees, hunched over as he chortles loudly.

"That's just bloody amazing!" Ron says after recovering from his rib breaking laughter, rubbing at an imaginary tear near the corner of his right eye. "Is that one of the days you got detention from Snape?"

George and Fred share a look and say in unison: "Not sure."

"With our knack for getting detention, we can't recall every incident." Fred answers with a shrug. He then focuses on Alphonse - and for some reason, the alchemist has a feeling that he isn't going to like the attention in the least bit. "So, you're a muggle? No magical capabilities whatsoever?"

Alphonse blinks. "I'm not sure, honestly, but I am an alchemist."

All three give him blank looks. He frowns. "Did I say something wrong . . ?"

Ron shakes his head. "No, it's just - alchemy isn't practiced anymore -"

Time out. Alphonse can only gawk, no doubt scaring the others with expression hanging on his face and the confusion oozing from every pore on his body. None of this is making sense! Just where the hell has he ended?! He needs to know.

The problem, however, is that he just can't demanded such nonsense. He's certain that the Weasleys will think he's a freak, scoundrel, lunatic! He feels his jaw slowly tighten back into its proper position - he can't say anything, he'll have to find answers on his own.

"Right," he chimes (a ruse to cover his trail), "well, I just always had a passion for science. Especially alchemy; I thought it'd be something interesting to look into." They don't seem convinced.

"Well, what can you do with it? Want to show us?" George asks, excitement etched on all three boys' visages. Alphonse gulps - and he always claims that Edward is the one that attracts trouble. He's been in denial a long time.

"Um, maybe after I'm better." They appear disappointed, but he can't help but feel relieved. He's noticed they don't tend to pressure him when he mentions the state his body is in (he's not proud of it, but he has no other excuse except 'I don't wanna talk about it', but that can only work for so long).

Ron props his right elbow up on his knee and rests his chin in the upturned palm of his hand. "Is there anything you can tell us, mate?"

"What do you mean?"

"Details! How does this alchemy work?" George exclaims as if it should be obvious, crossing his arms. Alphonse sighs. Of course the twins would want to know, if only to aid them in their pranks. It seems as if they live and breathe just to torment others in order to get a kick out of it.

"There's a lot to it," Alphonse murmurs, scratching the back of his head. "First there's comprehension: understanding the composition of a an object. The second step is deconstruction: breaking down an object into a more malleable form. And lastly, there's reconstruction: molding the object into your desired shape or form."

The twins and their younger sibling blink, lost. Alphonse sighs. He knew this would happen. It takes at least a few month of thorough research to comprehend the basics of alchemy (including its laws and precautions). "It's kind of hard to understand at first . . ." he points out.

They shrug and pick up another conversation. Alphonse can only breathe a sigh of relief.

:

:

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(Date, time, and location: unknown)

"I found these, but they're barely alive. Don't even look human enough to deal with . . ."

"Fool, can't you feel the faint energy flowing through them?"

"F-Forgive me, My Lord!"

"Take them - feed them human life."

"B-But how, sire?"

"Blood."

TBC


So, an underlying issue surfaces! What can it be?! xD

I felt this chapter was written better than the others for some reason. I think it might be that I got to focus more on Ed and Al's thoughts on the whole situation and how they are dealing with it. That and the only scenes that contained much dialogue were the last two - and unfortunately, dialogue is something I've been working on when it comes to my writing style. I'm better at over analyzing internal feelings that are expressed through description rather than through dialogue addressed from one character to another. It's a pain, but I feel I've gotten better.

Anyways, as always, pleases share your thoughts! Is there anything you think I need to work on? Should be addressed? PLEASE let ME know. Every little thing helps!