Sax had a fixation with smelling things. Well that, and he was just plain weird most days. Naruto supposed he could attribute that to the fact that the scrawny worm of a man had probably been in there since long before the blond had arrived. Recently, the old guy had been obsessing over Naruto in particular. He danced around Naruto, tripping over his own limbs as well as the odd striped drapes that the prison had them wear.

"Mad, Foxy, Mad! You're driving them all mad!" Naruto's eye twitched at the guy, and his raucous calls. The too thin man's beady eyes swerved all around the courtyard and gnarled fingers scratched towards the sky. Or more precisely, the cloaked figures –dementors they were called- that roamed the entire prison. Taking notice of the flailing man, a dementor swooped down towards the pair. Even against the greying sky, the nothingness that swelled inside a flimsy veil as a literal embodiment of dread, made an impending figure. It very rarely did not.

Sax gave out a screech, and kicked himself all the way to Naruto's back. The moving dementor halted only meters from the two, and Naruto could feel that same nothingness glaring into his eyes. He stared back, and lifted his lips to give it his favorite shit eating grin. With an odd clicking noise, and a whisper of something not quite real, the creature ducked back up into the sky.

"Ha!" Sax was leering over Naruto's shoulder now, lanky limbs draped in every direction "See Foxy, see! Do! See! Foxy makes them off. But why? Ha-ha!" The man cackled in crazed glee. His crooked jaw paused mid laugh, snapped shut, and nostrils flared as he took a good long sniff of Naruto. The blonde scrunched up his nose at the man.

"Hey, don't smell me!"

Sax only continued with his previous cackle, "Feasties. Yes, yes, yes we are." He was dancing again. This time his foot got caught on the splayed limb of a sleeping prisoner, and he went tumbling into the shadows with another bout of mad laughter.

Naruto twitched again. He scratched his cheek too. Then he turned, and began to make his way out of the courtyard. He had gone there to get some peace and quiet, but Sax made quick work of that idea. The prison was good at noise, as deserted as it felt. There was always someone moaning to themselves, or screaming at no one. But the people themselves hardly seemed real. Sunken into the decaying walls like a grotesque form of decoration, or wandering about in a sort of droning pace like a piece of living clockwork.

Everyone here had lost their minds.

Well, except for him. He was too awesome for that.

Or, at least, that's what he told himself. There had been another guy a while back too. Sirius Something-or-another. He had smelt like Kiba, but looked nothing like his old canine affiliated friend. The man was anything but crazy –maybe sad. More than sad. No, he was –what was that one word Sakura had used? Melancholy? Yeah, melancholy. The forlorn, hopeless kind of sad that Naruto had seen in the eyes of veteran shinobi. He was a lot like Sasuke in that aspect, or in any aspect that concerned his looks too. Naruto wondered about the man, and where he'd ended up. He'd had a godson, if Naruto remembered right. Some kid whose parents once knew Sirius. That part was strangely like Jiraiya.

Fuck it, in the end, the dog-man had really just been a conglomeration of people Naruto knew. Which made the entire truth of him being completely and utterly cut off from them, with no clear way back, all that more harsh. He didn't even have a clear way out of the prison. Energy reinforced corridors, windows only big enough for a foot, walls that stretched a mile high, and prison guards that gave him the willies. Not to mention the entire thing was smack dab on the middle of an island. Knowing Naruto's recent luck, that island was nowhere near any semblance of land.

The blonde huffed and ambled around a woman who may have been a man. Or perhaps a man who was actually a woman. All sorts belonged to this place –including him. The lost shinobi who had better things to do but no chakra to actually get those things done. At some point Naruto would find his way to a slightly damp corner of seclusion. The rough fabric of the striped gown did little against the chilly warmth, but after four years, Naruto didn't have to think about it too much. Instead, he folded his legs under himself and gave his best shot at meditation. It was an effort he had been doing daily for months and months –trying to feel the chakra that he knew he had, but somehow wasn't there.

All he felt was empty.

"Aah!" Naruto ran his fingers through his hair furiously, tipping back until he was nearly laying on the floor, "As soon as I get back to Konoha, I'm buying myself the biggest bowl of ramen that old man Ichiraku has ever made!"

"Tastey feasties," Sax nodded along. The man was crouched on the balls of his feet next to Naruto –leathery face a dozen inches too close for comfort.

"Gah!" The blond tumbled over, and he glared at the fellow prisoner. Said man winked back, gnawing on a stick in his hand. On closer examination, it most definitely was not a stick. Well, it was. But it wasn't just a stick. It had half of a slightly cooked fish carcass on it, teeth marks adorning the badly prepared animal just as much as they decorated the stick.

"Feasties for foxy!" The man cheered at Naruto's tumble. He had promptly held out the fish towards Naruto, shaking hands expecting the blond to take it.

"eh," Naruto recoiled at it. He was pretty sure that was a tooth lodged in it's eye, "I already ate," It wasn't even a lie, as strange as the thought was. Naruto was no newcomer to going hungry, nearly growing up on the streets as he had. But this place put a whole new meaning to the definition starving. Old man Hokage used to drop by to whisk Naruto off for ramen. Here, once a week or so, a large assortment of food would appear in the courtyard. By no means enough food to feed everyone in the prison. He supposed they were meant to ration it or share it –but few people here had any mind to do that, when he had first arrived. Those that did, were quickly overpowered by the other's craving for food. Meals from only the day before had once been cleared out in mere minutes. There was no doubt that food in the prison was few and far between, and currently, they were in the far-between.. Naruto blinked, "Hey, Sax, where'd you get that fish?"

"Foxy said he wasn't hungry!" Sax looked almost betrayed by the new development. Naruto shook his head. He was more confused about where the man had gotten it, than anything else, "Foxy is forgiven!" The man leaped to his feet, in a movement so fast it was no surprise that he collapsed into a wall just as quickly. He did however, manage to grip onto it like a demented gecko, "This way foxy, into the scaries of the walls,"

Naruto jogged to keep up with the galloping man, who weaved around the corridors with a chaotic sense of direction. The beady eyed resident ducked into, just as he had said, a wall. What Naruto had assumed was just more stone, actually turned out to be a thin staircase, leading downwards. It was just as grungy as the rest of the prison. Naruto hunched that this wasn't exactly a secret staircase then.

"Castle's dungeon, down we go! With all the rats and hats and ladies and prats," The man sung in a voice like sandpaper on glass. His tune was some sort of demented mash up of the happy birthday song and a funeral march. He tripped along merrily. Naruto decided to cover his ears.

At the base of the stairs was a cavern, it was wide but not very tall, and seemed to serve a similar purpose as a basement. Broken piles of wood that may have once been furniture were lined up along some of the walls. A small ashy pit that still smoked slightly was wedged in between two stretches of stone. The cavern itself was dripping, and smelt strongly of the salt in the ocean outside.

A puddle as wide as the staircase had formed next to the far wall. Sax was staring into it with the fascination of a man who had just found the most interesting thing in the world. With a sigh of disappointment Naruto made his way over. He peered at Sax first and the puddle second, arms folded behind his mess of hair. Sax's face was elated with his own mad glee. The puddle was dark and still. Naruto squinted. He couldn't see the bottom of the thing. That's weird. He joined Sax in crouching next to the puddle, and peered in even further. There was no- SPLSH!

"Ack!" The chilling water was on his face, in his shirt, and between his toes in a matter of

seconds. Which made no sense, except for the fact that somehow, that small dark puddle was definitely not a puddle at all. The 'puddle' was almost an impossibly thin space, and the blond had to twist and turn around his own limbs just to flip himself back towards the surface. The water, now muddied from the dirt that had been clinging to his face and hair, slapped onto the rocks. Sax grinned at him.

"Puddles not a puddle! Puddle not a puddles!" He waved his arms around like a man trying to fly. Naruto grimaced, pulling himself out of the hole. He had pushed him in! "Tunnels it is, tunnels for foxy," The man was giggling now, feint and high like a little girl. It looked wrong coming out of the man's mouth.

Naruto snorted, but looked into the cold waters. Tunnels? Did that mean that this led to the sea? A way out? He rung his soaked robes between his hands. Was it worth a shot? The blond gave a look towards the giggling man, "Hey Sax, I think I have an idea"

The gaun man giggled, waving both hands wildly. Past him, Naruto could hear the swirling waves through the cavern, and he grinned with an excitement he hadn't felt in years.

Intermission

The boy felt a familiar sense of dread. Very few people frequented the Janus Thickey Ward of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. The place was wrapped up and sealed away like an old secret. A closet of skeletons only opened to be cleaned and fed.

Neville Longbottom was one of the few who consistently showed up at the ward. For the four nurses who ran the department, he was a pleasant face in a stressful day. For Neville, it was a reminder of two parents he had hardly known.

"Oh, Neville!" One of the younger nurses, Tabitha Greymier, smiled at him. She was about twice Neville's age, and had always greeted the boy with a small hug and a tall tale, "Didn't know you would be showing today deary. Madam Strout just put Frank down for a nap,"

Neville shifted a bit, and began rethinking coming to the hospital without his grandmother. But Tabitha gave him little option to go back. The woman had rounded the counter in a matter of moments, and slung an arm around his shoulders with a slight squeeze. She was walking down the hallway before she had even let go. It would just look odd if he left now, right? The way through the halls was filled with a quick story about Tabitha's cousin, who had performed accidental magic on their cat so that it grew wings.

"Alice should be up though, ah here we are," A thick wooden door, latched from the outside, was opened. It was quiet on the inside, save for a soft scratching near the window. The walls were made up of a faded floral paper, and the floor of a soft yellow tile. White curtains were hung from the ceiling, concealing half the room from sight. The portions of the room that he could see were made up of unfinished puzzles and scattered board games. There were three or four unclothed tables sitting about the room. The one by the window was where his mother was sat. One hand fiddled with a chipped chess piece, and the other scratched at the pot of a flowery plant. Her wispy hair seemed slightly fuller than last time.

"Ah, Alice. Neville is here to see you," Quieter, to him this time, she smiled "Go on dear," A soft hand on his back lulled him further into the room. Then it was gone, and she was flitting about the room in an effort to tidy up, and he was ten feet from his mother.

She had looked up now, full brown eyes seeing Neville and everything around him in one go. Some days were clearer than others. Neville smiled, nerves shaking the corners of his mouth unsurely. He took the seat opposite of her, and she didn't seem to mind. There was a chessboard on the table. "…Hi Mum," He ventured, "I…uh," she had gone back to scratching the pot, "uh…I brought you some candy," He had. Some multicolored taffy that he'd found in a candy store's 'muggle' section. Neville dug into his cloak pockets with shaky fingers, and pulled out a handful of slightly squished taffy. His mother was looking again now, and the edges of her eyes were crinkling in the way a smiling person's do. Neville smiled back, and set the Taffy on the table between them. The woman had almost instantly reached for one, unwrapped it, and popped it into her mouth.

She hummed out something that could have once been a thank you, " r'welcome mum," Neville shifted in his seat. Tabitha had disappeared sometime during the exchange. The candy was hardly a new occurrence for the two. She liked candy, and he was happy that she seemed to like taffy too. She didn't like chocolate though –he had found out one time, somewhere near valentine's day. She had giggled when the chocolate flower bloomed, but had made a very disgruntled expression when one of the petals met her tongue. She liked anything jelly though, from every flavor beans to animal chews. Neville enjoyed bringing her candy, if only to learn m

ore about her and sneak a quick smile.

The chess board was new, Neville was sure. For lack of anything else to do, Neville began setting the pieces upright. His mom hummed when she joined in. She set the pieces at random. On the lines and upside down. Neville laughed slightly, and decided to play along. Both sides were made up of a mismatch of pieces. His mom had even stacked a couple atop each other. She was smiling now, her cheeks stretching at the little used expression.

Her hand went for another Taffy. Neville might have told her about his month. But there was hardly anything to say. It was the summer holidays, and after the events of the previous year everything else seemed completely moot. The tournament had been a tangle of dragons and feuds and mazes and Cedric was dead. And Voldemort was back.

It was hard to top that.

"Neville…"

Neville's head shot towards the voice. It was his mom. But that didn't make sense. His mom sat there though. Her face holding the same blankness that it ever did. Neville bit down on his lip, hard. He'd imagined it –he was going crazy –then his mother's face was flooded.

"You were so little…" Her eyes were watering. Her mouth stretching in the kind of smile that was both happy and so incredibly sad. It was the most emotion Neville had ever witnessed from her.

"M-mom?" The woman's hands were working quickly with the candy in her hands, fiddling and tapping at it.

"So tiny…so big now….how old are you, Neville?" Her brown eyes were fixed on him, truly looking at him –and only him.

"F-fifteen. M-mum?" Was he shaking? He thought he was shaking.

"Oh Neville…"The smile disappeared, but returned again a moment later, "you were so tiny…you know…Frank said he didn't tuck you in…" He wasn't just shaking, he was quaking, "you did it…such a strong little boy…tucking yourself in…" He opened his mouth to say something, but it caught in his throat like a bad hex. She reached out a hand towards him instead. Her arm brushed the chess pieces, toppling over a couple, and her hand retreated, "strong little boy…"

"I-I-M-mum," He took in a rough breath, "I-I'm getting a nurse m-mum, S-stay there!" Neville stumbled over his own two feet. And the feet of the chair. He didn't bother feeling embarrassed this time, instead turning down the hallway. It was funny, how Tabitha seemed to be in front of him before he was in front of her.

"Neville? What's wrong deary?" She steadied him with a soft grip on his arm, and Neville nodded. A fast, jerky motion, that went on for a bit too long.

"I-It's M-mum. She –she was talking. She remembered me,"

The nurse's eyes widened. She was down the hall at twice the speed Neville had gone. The door was still open from Neville's brisk exit. He was at the nurse's heels, nearly at her side.

He was glad for that a moment later. He didn't have to see his Mom's face when she jumped the nurse as soon as the two entered the room. Angry and snarling and screeching in twisted agony. She sounded like a cornered animal. And her eyes mirrored her panic, her limbs flying every way they could.

Tabitha had lost a chunk of hair in the debacle.

Once his mom had been calmed down, set to sleep on the bed, Tabitha had turned to him with a sympathetic smile. "This happens on occasion. Patients who have been…" She paused, pursing her lips together, "…been through something like your mother has…they'll sometimes have small periods of coherency. Think of it like a relapse of sorts. It rarely means anything."

Neville wilted. He had thought- "I'm sorry Neville," Another steadying hand was on him, "You should go home, spend some time with your grandma. I'm sure she could use some company,"

His grandma was out shopping for the day, but that's not what Neville said. In fact, he didn't say anything at all. He emptied out the last of the taffy from his pockets and left it on the table. He offered a small polite smile to Tabitha, and ducked out of St. Mungos with a bowed head. Nobody would be able to see his wobbling lips or watery eyes.

There wasn't anyone at home, as expected. And the emptiness of the house was a welcome solitude. But there were letters on the windowsill. One was from his friend Ginny, and the other from his great Uncle Algie. Thinking about anything but his distressing visit, the teen slipped into the sitting room. It was a large room with lots of furry drapes and rich greens. The only seats were large, lush, loveseats.

Neville sat on the rug instead.

Hello Neville,

You know, you really should write more. It's very boring here. I'm stuck with Ron and the Twins mostly. It's truly horrible! We're not even at the burrow. I can't tell you where we are, but there's always stuffy people coming and going. It has to do with the end of last year, I know. But enough about that. How are you? It must be awfully lonely there as well. I can't imagine there's much fun to be had with just you.

Have you finished the summer homework assignments yet? I have this essay in herbology that could use a looking over. And I thought since you're so good at it, and a year ahead of me –well, would you mind? Ron's hardly any help. Hermione showed up the other day as well. She'll be staying with us, I think.

She asked about you, so I offered to send any letters she has for you. Expect some soon, I suppose. Hope you're well,

Ginny.

Neville smiled at his redheaded friend. She was confident and brave and heard, and everything a Gryffindor should be. And he…he was sitting on a rug made out of wild dog furs in his grandmother's sitting room on a Saturday afternoon. If there was a word for the opposite of Gryffindor, that would be exactly how he felt at the moment. Uncle Algie's letter was crinkled, and just a bit torn. But that was how he had always sent his letters. Neville might have wondered why, except he'd met the man.

Algie was a worn and withered thing, much like a walking version of his grandmother's favorite handbag. He was just as ancient, anyways. Knobby knees always peeked out from his robes –though those robes had been dresses on occasion. The man was completely untouched by anything anyone could think up, it seemed. He made a habit of walking around completely barefoot, and rarely seemed to be able to distinguish between wizarding folk and muggles. Uncle Algie hopped from place to place like a wild rabbit, and never sent a letter from the same town twice. This one seemed to have been sent from a coastal town in the Netherlands.

Neville!

Neville, Neville, Neville! My dearest Nephew! One day I'll be taking you along with me. I've seen the strangest things these past few weeks. There was a chicken who could sing in a pub a few towns back. The bartender, nice young thing, sang along with it. You should ask your grandmother to sing! She hasn't in years, and I'd wager you're the only one with a shot at getting her to ever again. Not sure if she's any good. But we may as well find out!

I have a shack now! There was a rather friendly young couple who wanted to sell a small house, and I says to them, I'm interested in buying, and we have a looksie. But when I got there it was hardly what I expected. No, it was greater! A full shack, I could live here for months! So I says to them, no no, this isn't at all what you said it was, this is a shack, I'll take it for sure. So now here I am, in a small shack, barely a ten minute walk from the sea.

I've made many new friends here –most live quite a walk away though. However, one lives here with me. He's a strange thing, a ball of energy he is. I found him on the shore, out like he had swallowed an entire vial of Draught of Living Death. Cold as the dead too, he was. But, a bit of magic and he's good as new. He's always up and about now, running off until I can't see him anymore, and then back again once I've turned around. You'd like him, Neville, he gets into as much trouble as your friends do.

Speaking of trouble, how're you and your friends? I hope you know they're all holed up in a little secret hide away. Probably scheming about the recent pest problem. You should help, you're very good at that. Not scheming. Helping.

I'll see you soon, I think. I'll be visiting sometime, before we head East. I say we, but I'm not entirely sure if my new friend will want to come along. I can't exactly force him, can I?

-Your best Uncle, Algie

Neville folded the letter up, and dug through a couple cabinets before returning to the rug, the intention of writing replies at hand. The letter to Ginny was easy enough. Tell Ron and Hermione he said hello, of course he'd help with her essay, and he would be happy to get letters from Hermione too. Uncle Algie was a bit difficult to reply to. He always left very little room for comments. What could he say about a singing chicken? He didn't want to be rude…

"You should help, you're very good at that. Not scheming, helping," Neville flinched at that. He did everything but help. He only made things worse. Even today, when he had seen his mother –

"Strong little boy..." Neville curled his fingers into the carpet. It wasn't true. Why did people keep saying things like that? While Hermione, Ron, and Harry were always off saving the day –he had just been there, watching. How could they think he was strong, when he was always the weakest in the room? Even last year –with the tournament. All he had done, was give Dobby some gillyweed for Harry in the second task. That had been all. It wasn't even his idea, and-

"I have this essay in herbology that could use a looking over. And I thought since you're so good at it, and a year ahead of me –well, would you mind?" …and he wanted to help. Neville really, really wanted to help. But what if he messed it up? What if he only made everything worse? They all already seemed to think that he could help…maybe…

Would it be so wrong to try and prove them right?

Neville uncurled his fingers from the rug, and reached for another piece of parchment. He had letters to write, after all.

Heyo! So this is the rewrite of the original chapter two. The main change was that I combined the original second chapter and the original chapter three, since the two had similar ish themes. Other than that, all the changes made were very minor and nothing too noticeable. I feel like originally, my tart with this story as very strong, so most of my changes will be in the coming chapters. Thanks for sticking with me you guys!