Mark's mind was a mess, which was odd for one that lacked any more than a few months of memories, which was also odd for a man who appeared to be in his late twenties. The wizard had been found early March, unconscious on the dirt and suffering minor injuries, just a short distance from Bleak Street. His wand, galleons, and anything else that could identify him had been stripped from his person - including his own very own knowledge of who he was. His first memory was waking up in a hospital bed, lost and confused. He'd been out cold for three days, and it wasn't until after he woke that the healers realised the full extent of the situation and had to transfer him to another ward. From there, it had been a slow road to recovery, not that he'd call it that as nothing had actually been recovered, and with no galleons and no one showing up to claim responsibility over him, he'd been forced to go out into the world on his own with little more than the clothes he'd been found in, plus a few simple and slightly ill-fitting robes Mungos had to spare. At the very least, he was given a room in the Hogs Head and some time to find a job to help get him on his feet. The healers had also suggested seeing someone, a specialist in the area, and after some consideration, Mark decided it was probably best to talk to someone who could understand what he was going through, unlike the incompetents that St Mungos employed.
Nine am was an early start, but Mark managed to take up an afternoon shift at Flourish and Blotts for the day in order to travel toward Christchurch for his appointment with the "Post-Obliviation Therapy Clinic", as they called it. He was still getting used to traveling via the Floo Network - with no training in apparition, nor money to afford a new wand to do so - but he managed to arrive barely on time without too much of a hassle. Almost immediately he was ushered inside the office of a man whom was his last real hope of helping him get anywhere with his life, or lack thereof. He didn't know how to deal with the world as it was. Without memories, money or magic, he may as well have led a muggle life until some decent progress could be made. The lady who led him inside closed the door behind him and Mark turned to face his new therapist, attempting to return the smile despite how uncomfortable he was starting to feel. Part of him believed it would just be the same as it had been during the last few months at St Mungos - no one really trying to understand. "I, er- I'm sorry, I didn't catch that first part." Mark began as he took Hickories offered hand and shook it. "There's a few words I still seem to have trouble with, I think." Most words and their meanings had come back pretty quickly. He knew how to talk to others, just not the names of certain objects or people. It frustrated him having to relearn everything again, basic information everyone knew, but he tried to laugh it off after he spoke and took his seat, thumbs twiddling with uncertainty. "Thank you for having me. It's great to finally be here. So, er, where do we begin?"
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