Unforgettable

Lost and Found

Minerva had no idea how she survived the days that followed this disastrous headline. She didn't know how she kept up the appearance of confidently running the school and dealing with everything, how she supported the students and continued to be a pillar of strength to the faculty.
When Mina was by herself, she was far away from being strong. Once she'd retired to her apartment in the evening,  she was alone with her thoughts and the terrible fear came creeping in.
Where in the world was Albus? He couldn't be dead. He had promised he'd be back, the mission had been an easy one or so he'd said.
Had he lied? Had he known? But he hadn't made any provisions for the case that he didn't return. Had the Ministry lied to him? Had it all been a mistake?
Or was it maybe even... a tactical move? To make his enemies think they had won? Whatever it was, Minerva hated every minute of it.

The Ministry wasn't helpful at all. Whenever Mina went to enquire about Albus, about the case, they just told her that it was classified and while they appreciated her concern, it was frankly "none of her business."
Minerva was seething, but she couldn't just make their marriage public, not without his consent, or at least not without knowing for certain... she couldn't even finish that thought. But this wasn't the time, it didn't feel right. But something told her that this wasn't over yet. Maybe it was the hormones from her pregnancy or the mere knowledge that while the world around her was crumbling, there was new life growing inside of her.
But for some reason, whether it be optimism or delusion, she knew that this wasn't the moment to be Mrs. Dumbledore yet.
Mina worried about the baby. Would the stress affect it? And more importantly, how would she raise a child alone? She hated thinking about this possibility, but she knew that she owed it to her unborn child to explore and plan for every possible outcome.
And what if Albus returned and didn't want a child?
The first weeks of her pregnancy were miserable and certainly not because of the morning sickness she was still suffering from, it was because of the uncertainty, the worries about her husband and of course her broken heart. The world felt terribly unfair to her. How could she lose him now? They had just gotten married, there was a baby on the way. He couldn't be lost.

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Eastern Europe, Somewhere in the woods:

This was a nightmare, he was sure of that. Everything was dark, so dark and confusing. And so cold. It was winter and there was snow on the ground. He had nothing but his long coat, a weird stick that seemed to have a special significance to him and a small pouch that contained some bread that for some inexplicable reason never ran out, and a bottle he either filled with snow and hoped for it to melt or filled at one of the streams in the forest. He was convinced that this forest was cursed in some capacity, it looked different every day and it was so, so cold, dark and seemed hostile. It seemed as if the trees had eyes to watch him, and something seemed to follow him.
What made matters even more difficult was the fact that besides not knowing where he was and why he was there, he also had no idea, who he was.
No name. No idea of where he'd come from, no nothing. He didn't remember if he had a family, he did wear a few rings, but none of them helped clear things up, he didn't recognise the crest on the signet ring, and while some of his rings looked like they could be wedding bands, none of them stood out in particular. It was frustrating and terrifying and every day he spent in that confusing forest was worse than the last.
He had knowledge, it couldn't be denied that whatever life he'd come from, he had been an intelligent man. But for some reason, most of his brain seemed to be flooded with thick fog, covering his memories, even his most basic ones, even his own name, and the more he tried pushing it away, the thicker it got.
Sometimes he wondered if this was a long and weirdly realistic nightmare and he was due to wake up soon, but until that happened, he would just try to survive this.
He started calling himself A, because it was the first letter in the alphabet and trapped in this horrifying forest, he felt like the first (and honestly, only) human being in it. Maybe even the only living thing.
There were no animals in the forest, not even birds and it was eerily quiet at all hours of the day, even the babbling brooks seemed muted. A feared the silence, but after getting used to the constant silence, he feared sudden loud sounds even more. He wandered around all day, searching for anything, a sign of life, a house, civilization, a way out of the labyrinth forest. At night, A slept in a cave that he always seemed to come back to, no matter how far away he strayed. In there, he started scratching marks into the wall, deep down inside the cave because something told him that whatever or whoever was keeping him in this place wouldn't approve of him keeping track of the time that passed.
At the sixteenth mark, something finally happened. The day had started just the way all the days for A had started ever since he'd woken up in the forest. He woke up in the dark cave, took a minute to see if he remembered and when there was still nothing, he made another mark on his wall. Then he put on his cloak with the odd carved stick in the inner pocket and took his bread pouch which had once again refilled over night. A had a modest breakfast, consisting of bread and water, as always, then he ventured outside. Something was different, first he couldn't pinpoint what it was, but after walking for a little, it hit him. Sounds. There were sounds.
"Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Drippedydrop."
The snow was melting. Suddenly the forest didn't seem all black and white anymore, there was colour, not much, just some brown patches of floor, but it was undeniably another colour. Something had broken into that forest's controlled environment and the forest suddenly looked alive. There was something in the air, it wasn't spring yet, but it was change. A was eager to embrace it, eager to break out and he hoped to finally find out who he was.
Living without a name felt oddly degrading, like he wasn't even a fully fledged human being. There was a name for everything, yet, no name for him. He went on his usual treck, desperate to finally find something, somewhere, a way out.
On the sixteenth day, he finally found it. Or to be more precise, he was found.