A/N: At the moment, I'm writing a more chapters for this, but if you think it's better as a stand-alone, feel free to ignore my other chapters.
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Harry Potter and the Hostility of Hospitality
By: Pseudonym62
The gate to the dank and darkened cell creaked open, scraping along the uneven and scummy floor. A tall, cloaked figure croaked something out, it's voice simply a series of clicks, like popcorn almost, but much more sinister. The young man in the cell didn't react until the creature reached down and grasped the prisoner's chin, bringing the captive's face up to examine. Then the young man simply croaked in a similar fashion, throat dry and sore from screams. He didn't seem to be aware of the noise he was making, staring at a spot behind the tall figure's head.
The captive's hair was very messy, but for some reason, quite short, as if it hadn't grown a centimeter since he'd been imprisoned. The face was white and sallow, almost life-less, and streaks of dried blood covered much of his face, due to the cuts and scratches of constant abuse. His clothing was loose upon his body, and his weak shoulders barely kept his shirt from sliding down around him. He was too drained to sit or stand and spent most of the time lying on the cold stone cot they called a "bed". The tall creature pulled back the man's bangs, to inspect a small, lightning shaped scar. The scar was an angry red, and seemed to have been bleeding recently, and often. After confirming the inmate's identity, the creature let go. The man's head fell limply, leaving his once bright eyes to stare dully at the floor.
The floor had exactly two hundred and eighty four cobblestones in it, including the ones that were very small. The left wall had two hundred and fourteen, but there were three of them, and the total count for all the walls was six hundred and seventy three. The ceiling had two hundred and thirty one, and if you didn't believe any of that, you could have asked the prisoner. That is, not if you expected a response.
2 years ago, you might have gotten an answer, albeit a mildly screwy one, probably something along the lines of, "Oh yes, that's quite true, 1188 in total, but do you want to know how many Crumple-Horned Snorkacks there are as well? Eleventybillion and three! I counted myself."
3 years ago and your answer might be something more intelligible, "Yes, I know how many stones there are, but please! Get me out of here! Please, please, please, I'll do anything you want, anything, just please." After that conversation, the man in question would likely be reduced to a gibbering wreck if you didn't help him.
And so you see how the wizarding prison of Azkaban has wrought its, pardon the pun, magic upon one young man, famous before he could talk intelligably. His once emerald eyes were now quite dull and sunken. They lacked any sign of life at all, not even hatred, which had fled this horrid place long ago, leaving the man with nothing. They were now a grayish shade of green, unused to things such as sunlight and color.
The man's lack of thinking was interrupted as a bowl was plunked down in front of him by the guard, which by now you should have realized was a dementor. It was quickly filled with a gruel-like substance that appeared to be a serving of both food and drink it was so sloppy. A piece of bread was tossed in as well, the guard's treat for it's favorite prisoner. A throaty croak, which might have been a laugh, came from the dementor as the captive leaped upon the bowl as soon as the bread fell in and devoured all the "food" in seconds. There wasn't much of it to eat anyway. The man then wiped excess remains off his face and began to suck the scraps from his hand.
Most of the guards liked this prisoner because he never seemed to run dry of happy memories, but sadly for the captive, they were quickly grabbed by dementors before they ever had a chance to reach his consciousness. Dementors of course, as everyone knows, feed on the subconscious thoughts, which is why the conscious projection of a Patronus Charm affects them so much.
The guard moved on with it's rounds, and once finished, worked it's way back to the captive's cell, pausing at the cell of a newcomer, a shortish man with balding gray hair who cowered in fear, mumbling to himself.
The man appeared to be holding on a crumpled, lime green bowler hat for dear life, repeating over and over, "They won't throw me in prison, they can't!" However, they, whoever they were, didn't seem to agree, and did so anyway. The dementor luxuriated in the newer memories, and noticed there were still a few hiding that were waiting to be discovered and enjoyed. It filed away that information for later, and continued on.
Imagine the dementor's surprise when it reached a familiar cell to find it empty. Enraged, and a little worried, remembering how it's masters had reacted last time one of it's wards had escaped, began to look for the prisoner, and quickly. Using it's "eyes", it traced the familiar magical signature through the hallways, and with a bit of unease, noticed that the trail appeared to head for the exit. The dementor was so focused that it had yet to notice another distinct signature was also traveling along the prisoner's path.
By the time it reached the doors to the outside, it was definitely scared, dementors only feel pain when it's caused by other dementors, but it's quite excruciating for them when it happens, for they have no pain tolerance at all, really. The dementor was not looking forward to it's inevitable meeting with it's superiors. It glided past the warded room that was occupied by several aurors playing childish games to pass the time. That room also contained a newish piece of parchment signed by one minister of magic, calling for the release of one Harry James Potter. The aurors felt a moment of mild discomfort, but dismissed it as nothing. The room was so heavily warded, that even dementors had trouble projecting their effect inside of it.
The dementor reached the open doors, and looked out upon a dreary scene. The island had nothing growing on it to ease the eye, and the stone was damp, as usual from the incessant rain and fog. Through the rain, the dementor could see two figures getting into a boat, which seemed mildly familiar.
Gliding extremely fast, the dementor almost made it to the boat when suddenly, a silvery white, almost corporeal lethifold appeared out of nowhere, and wrapped itself around the dementor. The dementor panicked, surprised. The thing crushing it so slowly and painfully appeared to be a patronus, but the dementor couldn't escape from it! As the lethifold's grasp became stronger and stronger, the dementor shrunk in on itself, wondering what would happen if it was crushed, but unwilling to find out.
Just before the lethifold would have squeezed the essence out of the dementor, the patronus' strength faded, most likely due to it's caster's distance. The creature attacking the dementor seemed to drift away in pieces, but not before burning the dementor with it's weakened grip.
On a boat, which was quickly zooming towards a coastline, a blissfully unaware man sat in front of a completely unaware man and almost cried.
"Harry, oh Harry, what have the done to you?" The man broke down and grabbed the ex-prisoner into a hug, and cried on the unresponsive man's shoulder.
The wizarding world was in for a surprise when they would find out how they had treated their only savior.
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A/N So, what'dya think? I don't expect the total story to be very long, and I'm hoping to drop a few hints along the way as to the twist ending. I've got a few wicked ideas to try out on you all. I will probably write a couple chapters, edit them to contain some hints, then post 'em. I've also edited the first chapter from it's original format, to make room for some hints. If you read it and know what's missing now, you should be able to figure the ending out by.. oh I dunno, chapter 3? depends on how long it will be. Review please!