Hierarchy of Need [REWRITTEN]

Chapter Two

A headache was starting to crawl up the back of her neck, feeling like black tar sticking to her brain and her brows furrowed at the pain.

"I can't remember anything."

He hummed, pulling gently at the tuffs of his beard. "Do you remember what year?"

"1998," she said easily, the information slipping off her tongue without thought which surprised and eased her only briefly.

"Well it's good to know some basic recollection is possible, though I wonder if this is a serious cause of obliviation."

Her heart sunk at the possibility. Who would do such a thing?

"You've somehow managed to jump back fifty five years," his tone held more curiosity rather than empathy. Delilah was quickly realizing she didn't like the man very much. He didn't sit right with her. He was giving her nothing but an echo of sympathy. Then again, she wasn't searching for pity either.

"Did you have anything on your person? For such a time jump one could assume a time-turner."

Shaking her head, she patted down her pockets nonetheless. There was nothing. From what she could recall there wasn't anything near her at the lake, either.

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen," she said dimly, not seeing why that was relevant.

However the older wizard's mind was raging with numerous theories, though none were concrete. The most simple one being she was obliviated and sent here, though there was no explanation for the apparent lack of a time traveling device.

Dumbledore stood up abruptly and she blinked at him. "If we're to figure this out there'll be need for a bit of time to dwell before sending you on your merry way back."

Standing up warily she wrapped her arms around herself, "why can't I just use a time-turner now and go?" There was a strange sense of vulnerability wrapped around her, like someone had thrown a wool blanket over her shoulders but it was heavy and damp. Making her feel uncomfortable and her bones itched.

"I don't think that would be the safest option, especially considering you have clear memory loss. I wouldn't feel comfortable sending you back with a still empty slate. In the mean time we have one option."

Wanting to argue, she bit her tongue. Part of her knew waiting till whatever happened to her got fixed was the smartest route. Though she wondered why she couldn't try to to the same in her own time. Surely her memory might come back faster if she was in a more familiar environment.

"Which is?" she asked.

He beamed, "we need to get you enrolled. A limited environment would be best and frequent meetings can be held as well as treatment. Obliviation is very hard to reverse, especially if it was well casted. But there is no other hope but to try."

She gaped at him, "enroll? Here?" He must be mental. Why couldn't she just stay somewhere and not be distracted by anything? Being forced to attend school hardly seemed like the best idea. How would she have any time to get her mind in order if homework was simultaneously being shoved down her throat.

"Oh, yes of course!" He exclaimed, hitting himself lightly on the forehead. "I couldn't very well just walk into Dippet's office and say we have a new student. We need to form a new identity for you." His tone was light, Delilah couldn't help but stare at him incredulously. He was mad.

"We'll need to get you sorted, of course."

A vague memory of a hat sprung to mind. She could only hope more things along the way would trigger some remembrance.

Making his way to his floor to ceiling bookcase, he flicked through some ancient looking novels. "For starters, a background. It doesn't have to be too complex, just a basis."

Delilah felt like she'd swallowed gravel. This was insane. Bloody insane.

"We could say you're German, though with the current heat of things that's probably not best," he muttered, flicking through pages. "Or American, how's your American accent?"

Her words stumbled over themselves as she tried to reply and he shook his head, "no, dreadful. Never mind."

A title of a book caught her attention and it was as if another door had been unlocked. "I can speak French." Hopefully fluently or else this would surely be a disaster. Part of her hoped this would be a quick process, that more doors would open on a whim in no need for a key.

Optimism felt foolish, however.

Dumbledore snapped the book shut and she flinched. "Excellent! We can say you went to Beauxbatons, transferring here due to the war effort. Oh, let's see... Pontmercy seems rather fitting, doesn't it?"

"I mean I suppose," not like she had much choice in the matter.

Starting for the door, he threw it open and she cautiously followed after him. "Where are we going?"

Some students in the halls eyed her curiously. Picking apart her outfit and she'd only just noted the clothes she was wearing. Fancy black robes and red trainers. Vastly different from any forties wardrobe.

"We'll get you sorted in Dippet's office, should be quick. Perhaps the Hat can give you a bit more insight. It has a knack for that sort of thing."

Reaching the Headmaster's office, a large bronze statue of what looked almost like a griffin stood guard. "Ministry," Dumbledore muttered the password and shortly after the statue arose to reveal a spiraling set of stairs.

Her stomach dropped, a looming sense of foreboding hanging at her heels as they began to ascend the steps.

Something was definitely wrong.