My Name Is?

I am really sorry it took so long! Real life got in the way. I'd like to sincerely thank Hilaria for looking over this chapter for me. Also to Miss ladyinthecloak for her lovely corrections.

Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling, however much I'd like to be richer than the queen.

Chapter 1: My Name Is?

At first, all I could see were bland, dark colors. Colors that melded one into another, dark blue and burgundy, dark green and ochre. I couldn't think clearly. Each color swirled in and out of my consciousness. It ebbed and flowed, like an endless, blind sea. It wasn't until I realized that I wasn't looking at colors, but seeing them from behind closed eyes that I really gained cognizant thought again.

Being inside my own head was like looking out into the harbor on a particularly foggy morning. Dark gray clouds pulled in amidst the colors. The clouds blocked my memories from me.

Well, first things, first, I suppose.

I tried to sit up. Unfortunately, nothing moved. My eyes didn't open. After a few more tries, I figured it out; I couldn't move. I strained to listen, to hear anything that might tell me something. Anything. My sensory organs failed me.

Was I dead?

Or, worse, was I blind and deaf? The panic hit me like a bowling ball between the eyes. I couldn't move. I couldn't even hear myself breathe. As the minutes ticked by, it grew stronger. The pressure on my chest, filled with panic, was so strong it burned. Was this what a panic attack felt like?

My chest heaved, trying to fill my lungs with desperate, stale air. It smelled of iodine and an odd pine scent that had to have been manufactured. The simple scent pulled me from my erratic breathing. That answered one question, at the very least – I was alive.

What had happened to me? I could see and hear before. I know that. I wouldn't simply see colors in my vision behind closed eyes if I had always been blind. Perhaps my eyes just can't open? Or won't open?

But what about my ears? Why can't I hear anything, even the breath of air in my lungs? Or even the quiet throb of my still-pounding heart in my ears?

Desperate now, I plowed through my mental haze, seeking answers. The clouds hid gaping maws, canyons on the floor and ceiling of my mental rooms. Fluttering all around were bits of torn parchment. Like someone had come in, and meticulously torn each and every sheet apart.

At the back of my mind, as though I had taken hours to journey there within my own head, was a bookcase. It was tall and majestic, reaching toward a ceiling that wasn't there in a metaphor that somehow had gained life. There were books on the shelves, written in tiny, loopy handwriting that I somehow recognized as my own.

The implications began to slowly click into place as I perused the books. Horror grew in the pit of my stomach with each one. These were learned things. Spells, wand movements, Dark creatures, Potions ingredients, and the like. Where were my memories stored, though, my friends? My family? My own name?

That is when I found the book on my memory shelf. A book on spells, under the "O". Obliviate. A flash of something, a scrap of a memory I couldn't recall on my own – a woman and a boy, featureless, the voice speaking the spell without inflection. That was where all the holes came from. Were these people my family? My mother and brother, perhaps?

For some reason, that calmed me down more than the books on the memory shelf that contained what I'd learned from people I didn't remember. I ran a cold diagnostic of my memories, feeling at the holes. The haze lifted slowly as I felt the ones I could see, revealing just how pockmarked my mental landscape really was. When it had left, there was nothing there for me to see.

For reasons that should have been apparent to me, but were not, I felt that I should probably be insane. After all, I had no memories save for a library of books in the back of my mind. I sighed and slumped against the shelves. There was no use denying it, and no use in panicking over it. I was completely Obliviated from every corner of my mind.

That did not explain why I could not see or hear. Logically speaking, if it were only my mind that had been wiped slate clean, then I should be fine. Physically, anyway. That meant that something else was wrong. Without my memories, however, and without someone there to explain anything, I was at a loss for what.

Had I been attacked? Was I still in danger? Was I lying on the floor somewhere, helpless and hurt?

In all of my musing, I must have missed my body's signs. My racing heart had slowed to a restful beat. My skin was fine; I could feel cloth on it. I was covered, at least, and I felt rather comfortable. There were some aches, some pain. Nothing that I really could say was horrible. Since this was my first recollection of pain, I marveled at the way that I dismissed it. My body, at least, remembered that I'd had worse even if my mind could not.

That's when I finally heard the murmuring. At first it was indecipherable. It felt entirely as if my head were underwater, and I was trying to listen to merpeople above the surface. Cool glass pressed to my lips, and I felt my mouth and throat work to swallow the substance. It tasted foul. The sheer relief at being able to feel, to taste, to hear, however, overshadowed my distaste.

I don't know how much later it was when my hearing cleared. The woman, whoever she was, must have been humming for quite some time before I caught the difference between the muddled murmurs. Her voice was familiar, but the tune was not. Who was this woman? Was she a friend? A relative? My mother, even?

The hope that she was my mother burgeoned in my chest like a Roaring Lily. A hand brushed my hair from my still-shut eyes. It must be her. The humming faded slightly from a short distance, but did not cease. Had she just sat back? If she was only seating herself, she would be closer, I think. It sounded like she was several feet away. Was there another person she was looking after?

The woman and the boy from what muddled memories my mind seemed able to recall popped into my vision. Perhaps she was the woman? Maybe the boy was here, too. The humming ceased with the sounds of an opening door and padded footsteps. The door shut, and I felt the wind ruffle my hair again.

"How are they doing, Healer Pomfrey?" asked the woman's voice. It was familiar, but not enough for any new memories to crop up.

"Physically, they're just fine," Healer Pomfrey's voice said. He sighed and paused for a few beats. "You weren't so well yourself. You should be resting."

"I will, once they're awake."

Healer Pomfrey sighed again. "You mustn't blame yourself for anything that... " He trailed off uncertainly.

"I need to know they're all right."

The sound of rustled cloth came then, and a few wet sniffles. More cloth rustled, a squeak of a chair on the floor. This woman couldn't possibly be crying over strangers, right? I prayed that I was right, and she was my mother. That everything would be okay now. "What if they're brain damaged? Or worse, what if – "

"Ms. Taylor, we can stand here and exchange 'what ifs' all day and it would do them nor you any good." Another few beats. "Can you tell me what happened?"

I listened eagerly, wanting to know the same thing myself. The woman sighed. I could hear her shifting in a seat somewhere to my right. "I just found them, Healer Pomfrey. They were... they were amidst a good deal of... I think they were attacked."

Attacked? Was I on someone's "to kill" list? Why Obliviate me?

"Their physical states suggests a Death Eater attack, yes," Healer Pomfrey said, as though he had seen this far too many times. "But to Obliviate them... it's beyond my comprehension. Somehow, I think that someone wanted this to look like a Death Eater attack."

Ms. Taylor was silent.

"It is feasible... " Healer Pomfrey fell silent for a few seconds. "I think they may have been attacked for reasons other than being of impure blood. That would explain their loss of memory."

"What do you mean?"

A sigh. "I don't know what I mean. It just doesn't seem plausible that they were attacked by Death Eaters. You-Know-Who doesn't pick random targets, and these two seem like very random targets to me." Another pause. "What about their parents?"

"Dead when I got there."

My heart froze.

She wasn't my mother. My mother and father were dead. Dead, and I couldn't even remember their faces, their names? The despair that clenched my heart was so powerful, I felt the pain ricochet around within me. But he'd said... he'd said "these two". I had a sibling? A brother or sister? The boy's image, the one in my mind, reappeared there. Was this person, this vague outline of someone, my brother?

I strained to open my eyes again, to no avail.

"Poor things," the Healer said sadly. "What are you going to do?"

"I have enough money to support them and me for some time," said Ms. Taylor slowly, as though she were thinking hard. "I'll adopt them. They're obviously students, looks like third-years. I just hope they recall their schooling."

"Perhaps." Healer Pomfrey did not sound hopeful. What would they think if they knew that's all that I remembered? What the hell kind of enemy had I obtained that would delete all but how to use my magic?

I heard a soft moan then, and the rustle of cloth. The Healer spoke quietly, but I could still hear the words.

"Hello, young man." A brother! "How are you feeling?"

"Like I just got hit by a dozen Bludgers," said a coarse, throaty voice. He was trying to sound humorous, I think. His voice, however, dispelled the humor, as it sounded parched by days of thirst.

"Do you recall what happened?"

A pause. "No."

Healer Pomfrey sighed. "What's your name, son?"

Another pause. "I... I don't know, sir. Where am I?"

"You are in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries," said the Healer. "Your sister there and you were found by Ms. Taylor there. I'm afraid your parents did not survive."

A series of squeaks came from somewhere to my far right, followed by a single loud one that signaled silence again. I think it was the bed, but I couldn't be sure. The boy's voice wavered slightly.

"W-Well... at least I can't r-remember, th-that would make it worse," he murmured. Ms. Taylor murmured nonsense under her breath, too quiet for me to hear her words.

My heart clenched again. My brother – if he was my brother – didn't recall his own name. Didn't recall mine. Didn't recall our parents. Our friends. Did my brother and me fight? Did we get along all right? I couldn't even recall a faint birthday memory or a Christmas. The faces were smudged out, the memories gone, fuzzy, deleted.

I heard swishing noises and the Healer sighed. "You're all right aside from a few new scars and this loss of memory. I couldn't imagine why Death Eaters would want to Obliviate... they usually just torture and kill."

"Death Eaters?" the boy asked. He sounded like he'd rather not catalogue said new scars – if he could even recall old from new. I knew I wouldn't be able to.

"We're at war," said Healer Pomfrey. "But that isn't for you to worry about. We aren't even sure that it was the Death Eaters." He didn't say anything else for a moment or two, and then I felt warm, rough hands on my face.

"How are her eyes?" Ms. Taylor asked.

I tamped down on the panic that screamed in the back of my mind. If I was blind, I would accept it. I would.

"They look fine," Healer Pomfrey said. The blunt end of a wand tapped each of my eyebrows. As though commanded by the Imperius Curse, they flew open of their own accord. The light seared my eyes. I blinked rapidly.

Then, I tried to move. "Don't panic, young lady, your body is under a medical stasis." He murmured a few more spells over me.

"I... " My voice sounded just as bad as the boy's, if not worse. "I heard... "

"It's all right, don't strain yourself, now," said Healer Pomfrey with a warm smile. He was a gentlemanly looking man; neither short nor tall, thin nor fat. He looked about thirty years old, with warm brown hair and cool grey eyes. He had a very handsome face, and a tender smile. That must be why he made a good Healer.

I swallowed and moved to sit up. The Healer and Ms. Taylor both helped me sit up. I glanced over at the other bed. The boy I had seen so vaguely in my memories was there. He brushed a few strands of honey-colored hair out of his eyes, as though nervous to have me looking at him. Ms. Taylor was the woman, I was sure of it.

"I was listening," I said before the Healer could ask me the same questions. "I don't remember much more than he does."

The room was the same as any other St. Mungo's room, though how I could say that I didn't know. It was white with a bewitched window and two beds against the wall. A curtain was scrunched up between the two beds and then on the other side of the boy's bed, this one obviously to wrap around both.

"You've been hit with multiple Cruciatus Curses," the Healer said. "You've slept off the worst of your healing process. You shouldn't feel anything more than light twitching and headaches; we'll give you some potions to take with you."

"Where will we go?" I asked softly.

"You'll be coming home with me," said the woman. "I've offered myself up as your foster mother."

I nodded and attempted a smile. I'm sure it was probably more of a grimace. She didn't comment on it, at least.

"I never had children, you see," said the woman, and I knew in an instant that this was a lie. "I've only just returned to Britain from a long stay in Egypt, so I'll have to look into a flat first. When will they be released, Healer Pomfrey?"

"Oh, probably Wednesday morning," said the Healer with a crinkly smile. "We need to keep an eye on them for a bit, in case there is any improvements on their memories."

Some emotion flashed over Ms. Taylor's face, but it vanished faster than I could name it. I exchanged a glance with the boy, glad he had the observational skills to notice both the woman's visage and catch my eye. He gave an imperceptible nod.

"We'll be fine," I said. It was more to convince myself than the two adults. "At least from what I can tell, we've been through the ringer. I feel quite well considering."

"I'll go get Madam Pomfrey and make sure you lot have something to eat," Healer Pomfrey said with a smile. He stretched his back out as he stood up. "Don't try moving around too much for a bit, your muscles are very sore and require the rest."

The woman smiled softly. "You two will be all right if I go?"

"Of course," I said. "We're in splendid hands here, aren't we, um...?" I trailed off, glancing at the boy in the other bed.

"I don't know my name, either," said the boy with false brightness. "We'll make something up. Should be fun."

"That's probably best," I said, laughing in spite of the trickle of fear running up my spine. It sounded a bit hysterical even in my own ears. Healer Pomfrey gave an understanding though sad grin at this.

"Well, you let me know when you've got something," he said.

"We'll just take your last name, if that's all right," I said, turning to the woman. She smiled at this.

"That would make me very happy, young lady. My name is Molly Taylor, by the way."

"Taylor," I said, tasting the name on my own tongue. "I like it."

"Oh, you are a little angel, aren't you," Ms. Taylor said. She chuckled and with that, Healer Pomfrey swept from the room. She glanced at the door, and then at the boy, as though pondering whether she should do something or not. "I wasn't sure... oh, well, here." She handed him a small, silver locket. "I found this on you. I couldn't get it open, though, so I... "

He offered her a tiny smile. "Thank you, Ms. Taylor."

"Call me Molly, dear," she said. She patted his head once, uncertainly. "I had best go, then. I need to find a place for us to live, after all."

"Bye, Molly," I said, waving. She smiled back at both of us and then left the room.

As soon as the door latched, I snatched my wand from the side table – how I knew it was mine I don't know – and cast a Silencing Charm on the door. I put a warning ward over it just to be safe, too. For a few moments, we were silent.

"Are you really my brother?" I asked quietly, in spite of the charm.

"I don't know," he said. He looked as confused, if not more so, than me. He held up the necklace for me to see. "It has... my name on it."

I gave a wry half-smile. "What's your name?"

"Scorpius. I remember my schooling, too."

My eyebrows rose slightly. "We remember our learning, but not who we learned it from."

"Well... guess we really had better come up with something to call you. I was named after a zodiac. Maybe you were too."

"Yes, but there aren't exactly very nice female names in the Western zodiac," I pointed out. "And I'm not going to go around being called Virgo or Taurus."

He hesitated a minute before speaking again. "Well... how about if I'm the head and you're the stinger?"

"Pardon me?"

"Uh... the tail... the stars on the end... Shaula and Lesath, they're sometimes referred to as the Cat's Eyes," he murmured. "We could come up with something cat-ish, you know."

"How about Hecate, then?" I asked.

"How did you get to Hecate from 'cat'," Scorpius asked, amazed.

"I like it," I said with a shrug. "Think of the etymology. The Greek Hecate can be traced down to Catherine, which is long for 'cat'."

"Who represents witchcraft," Scorpius murmured. "Very interesting, that. I like that name. Hecate Taylor, I am pleased to make your acquaintance, sister."

"Scorpius Taylor, likewise," I said, smiling. The wards went off. I quickly removed them and set my wand back down. Just in time, I snatched my arm back under the covers as a very young woman walked into the room. She smiled sweetly at us both as she pushed a small cart in with two covered trays on them.

"Good morning!" she said. "I heard all about your memories, dreadfully sorry for it, dears. I am Mrs. Pomfrey."

"You're married already?" I asked before I could stop myself.

"Oh, yes, dear." She giggled a little as she conjured up a table for my tray. She showed me a golden band on her left hand as she set the tray down. "I only married last week. Lovely man, my Gideon Pomfrey. He's the Senior Healer here, you know."

Mrs. Pomfrey set the tray down on Scorpius's newly-conjured table. "And we'll probably get to know one another a bit more. I've been hired as the new mediwitch at Hogwarts!"

"I've read about Hogwarts," I said. "The history of it. I apparently liked reading it, because it's committed to my memory."

"Oh, you'll love it, I'm sure," Mrs. Pomfrey said. "It's a lovely place, I'm glad to be going back there. The Great Hall, the professors... "

In spite of myself, I smiled. From the way Mrs. Pomfrey made it sound, Hogwarts was next to heaven. And for a person who had nothing but schooling left, that really was saying something.

"I can't wait," I said.

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Thank you for all you lovely readers! I so enjoy reading comments. I'm not used to them. ^_^