If James had been able to, he might have felt grateful that Moody's paranoia had allowed them swift access to a portkey that would take them to Azkaban. But as it was, waiting in silence for the Auror to return with some innocuous object, he couldn't do much more than clench his fists and glower at nothing.

They weren't going officially – James knew that visits to Azkaban were rare and required a lot of paperwork, and he wasn't going to his best friend stay there any longer than necessary just because some higher-ups would be reluctant to admit that they'd made a foul-up and imprisoned the wrong person. Which was why Moody had apparated them to a contact of his - who James hadn't learnt the name of – that was able to get them into Azkaban (off the record, of course). Dumbledore would be at the Ministry, using all his clout, to make what they were about to do legal. No one would be able to stall the process if it involved imprisoning not only James Potter, but also Alastor Moody as well as going directly against Albus Dumbledore. That would be political suicide.

It was the quickest way to get Sirius out of that hellish tower and back where he belonged; with James and the rest of their motley family.

Although, if that Auror didn't bloody return soon, James wasn't sure if he'd be able to stop himself from flying across the ocean on his broom. Or having a go at apparating, despite knowing the impossibility of apparating to Azkaban. He knew with utter certainty that Sirius would do it for him if he had no other way of getting James out.

"Why didn't you question him when he was brought in," James asked quietly to distract himself from making the attempt. If Moody was surprised at James suddenly breaking the silence, he didn't show it. So far, the grizzled Auror had remained silent, and James recognised that it was to allow James his thoughts, which a part of him was grateful for. He had to admit that he was not happy with the Auror for letting the man he considered to be the brother he'd unknowingly picked up on the Hogwarts Express when he was eleven stay trapped in Azkaban – a horrific place filled with horrific people that did horrific things to their minds when left there for long enough - for three weeks.

"Couple of reasons," Moody replied gruffly, "One; neither me nor my team were the ones to bring him in, and two; I was compromised. I didn't get involved after he was brought in because I thought it'd be better if he was processed by someone impartial. I should've checked up on the progress, but I didn't."

"Yeah, you should have," James replied, but his tone was sad and tired and without the accusing bite that the words would suggest. "Was it his last name?"

"One of the reasons that I believed his guilt," Moody admitted, "but I didn't look after someone else had caught him because of who he was to me."

"You were compromised," James repeated Moody's earlier words, before adding, "you were angry with him and with yourself. And you were hurt."

Moody didn't reply, and James thought that he understood.

Just then the Auror strode back into the room, this time he was carrying a black, leather belt. James stood immediately upon seeing him, all thoughts of guilt and accusations disappearing in favour of reaching Sirius. The Auror walked immediately towards Moody, who took the belt with a gnarled hand when it was proffered.

"You owe me," the unknown Auror stated.

"No, you owe me. This is just me collecting a debt," Moody re-joined.

"Fine, but we're even now," the other didn't skip a beat in trying to gain ground.

"Yes," Moody agreed, "for that time in Bristol. You still owe me for Liverpool."

The Auror inclined his head in acceptance.

James ran out of patience, "Great, can we go now?!"

The Auror looked at him, "Hold the belt; the password is 'rochieren'"

Without another word, James grabbed onto the belt and gave the password, he and Moody squeezing out of existence with the sensation of a hook behind the navel.

They landed on a rock just outside the base of the tower. James did his best to push down his nausea from the portkey travel as he looked around. The sound of waves crashing on the rocks around them was maddeningly loud and the sky was so dark and full of clouds that James wouldn't be able to tell that it was day if he hadn't already known. The tower itself was hideous, a dark, stone thing jutting out of the middle of the miserable ocean. But worse than the environment was the sight of the ragged creatures floating around, and the prevailing chill and bad memories he felt pressing in on him. He hated the knowledge that Sirius had been trapped here for three weeks.

"Come on, let's go find our man," Moody said gruffly, only a minute change to his usual scowl giving away his distaste for the prison. James hurriedly made his way to the stone arch that served as the entrance to the tower, determined to get Sirius and take him as far away from this place as possible.

As soon as he was inside the measly shelter of the tower, a man hurriedly stood up from where he was leaning against the wall, trying to get his wand out in the face of an unexpected visitor. James would have liked nothing more than to ignore him and race up the stairs, but he had no idea where Sirius was being held, so he settled for cutting of the man as he blustered.

"Hey-!"

"Where's Sirius Black?!"

The man opened his mouth angrily, before looking at him again and blinking in shock, "You're… you're James Potter!" He sputtered, "You- You're supposed to be dead!"

"Well, I'm not. Where is Sirius?" James cut out.

"But-"

"Norton! What are you just standing around here for! You heard the man; where is Black?" Moody yelled out, moving in behind James. Looking around, he snorted in disgust and muttered, "This is the security we have at the prison every piece of scum under the sun has nightmares about?"

"Auror Moody-!" The man – Norton – began, in a parody of professionalism, "I just got letter saying we should expect you and another to arrive and- Well, I've only just got on the shift you see; Simmons just left, but that's not very important, so-"

"Where is Sirius," James grit out, his patience in negative digits.

Norton apparently realised that because his eyes widened in alarm and he hurriedly stepped back, gasping out, "Top of the tower: East quadrant! Somewhere in Cell Block D!"

James turned and ran, oblivious to the sounds of Moody following him and anything else Norton stuttered. He raced up the dark, crumbling, stone stairs, ignoring the ever-creeping shill of the dementors and the inevitable shouts of anger or crazed laughter or calls pleading innocence from the variety of prisoners. Another time he might have been cautious, but his sole goal was to get to Sirius, and that goal easily swept away all other concerns for himself.

Getting to the top of the tower was a blur, as was finding the East quadrant, and although James, grudgingly, actually had to pay attention when looking for Cell Block D, it wasn't all that much harder. James barely noticed Moody as the grizzled Auror followed, not saying a word but glaring at any inmates who jeered or begged for release. He did, however, become more conscious of the chill and sense of hopelessness the higher they got. His step never faltered, and his pace never slowed, but his breathing became heavier and harder.

Finally, they reached Cell Block D.

"Here!" James called, running along and glancing at the cells, looking for his brother, "Sirius!? Sirius!?"

"Black?" Moody called, ignoring the pitiful cries of the prisoners who begged for mercy with an ease that came to those who'd seen the darker walks of life and knew the kinds of things that people would have to do to get up this high in Azkaban. As for himself, James was too focused on finding Sirius to notice the whines of the other prisoners.

"Sirius!? Sirius, are you here!?" James desperately yelled, rounding a near-90-degree corner.

"Siri-?" James trailed off, halting at the sight of two dementors converging on the entrance to a cell about twenty metres ahead. James felt his mind go blank at the vision, not entirely comprehending what he was seeing or what it must mean for the poor bastard in the cell.

But then he heard that oh so familiar laugh-

Sirius

-and his brain snapped back into action-

"SIRIUS!"

-working in tandem with his instinct-

"No!"

-and his magic-

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

-because nothing else mattered in that moment-

"Get away from him you bastards!"

-other than ensuring that those dementors didn't steal Sirius' laughter.

That they hadn't taken his soul.

James didn't watch as the dementors angrily fled from his Patronus as he himself flew towards the door they had just vacated, and he didn't hear the sound of Moody cursing in anger and worry as he quickly followed behind him. He couldn't see or hear or feel anything, other than a repeating track of, SiriusSiriusSiriusPadfootSiriusPads, as the sound of laughter had at some point gone silent. He was terrified of what that might mean – what he might find – but he needed to know.

He didn't pause before entering the cell, both hoping that it was Sirius' and praying that it wasn't while an overarching part of him knew that it was. James took one glance at the ragged figure slumped against the dark stone of the opposite wall and let out a strangled, mutilated sound as he practically tripped down the stairs towards the familiar form. Please, Merlin, God, Led Zeppelin, or whoever the hell is out there, please let me not be too late. Please let him live. Please let him keep his soul. Please…

"Sirius, Sirius?" James crashed next to his best friend and gently pulled his head onto his lap, worriedly calling for him as he did so. Please…

"Shit!" He vaguely heard Moody curse from next to him as he saw the condition his protégé was in.

Then…

"…Prongs….." a weak and slightly disbelieving voice uttered, familiar grey eyes looking up at him, guarded but vulnerable in a way that was entirely the contradiction that he – his spirit – was.

James couldn't describe the relief he felt suddenly flow through him, but it was physically painful in its suddenness and intensity. He felt tears prick his eyes as he gasped out, "Pads…"

"Is this… real?" Sirius got out, a wary expression crossing his face.

"Yes," James hastily assured, "Yes, this is real. We're here and we're getting you out right now."

"You're… alive?" Sirius didn't seem sure, which James felt himself panicking about.

"Yes, yes I'm alive," James then realised what Sirius meant, "I'm alive, and so are Lily and Harry. You saved us. You saved us."

"You're alive," Sirius breathed in wonderment, but this time it was more a confirmation.

"Yes, Pads, I'm fine. Come one, we have to get you out of here," James tried to help Sirius up and, although he'd expected to have to carry most of his friend's weight, he was still surprised by how difficult it was to even get him to sit up without the use of the wall. The sound of metal had him looking down at Sirius' hands, which were manacled with heavy, dark chains, and James felt more fury as he saw that they were keeping him attached to the wall, as though just being locked in a cell wasn't enough.

"I've got that, lad," Moody's gruff voice was almost soft, as he muttered some spells that had the manacles falling off Sirius' wrists with a clang. James breathed out to calm himself and sent a quick nod of thanks to the older man. He looked back at Sirius, whose eyes had been drawn to the Auror as well, but this time when he spoke his voice was more stutter-y and after a moment of worry, James attributed it to a combination of shock from the dementor attack and lingering cold.

"…Hi, Mo-oody…" Sirius said, his body shivering slightly.

"Hey, Sirius," Moody replied, "sorry this took so long."

"Mhmm," Sirius murmured, eyes closing for a moment before the shivering turned to trembling and James noticed for the first time that his fingers were twitching. Moody followed his gaze to Sirius' hands and swore, loudly and aggressively.

"Shit! Fuck! Son of a whoring bitch!"

"What!?" James asked in alarm, glancing up from Sirius.

"He's been under the Cruciatus!" Moody snarled in anger, which James would later realise was largely directed at himself.

"What!?" James' eyes flashed back to his friend's hands, as he realised with horror what the shocky twitches of abused nerves must have been caused by. He dragged his gaze up to meet Sirius' far calmer – and sadder – one, "…Sirius…"

"…N-not… your f-fault… Prongs," a shuddering tremor ran alarmingly through Sirius' whole body, and he rolled his eyes at himself before letting loose a harsh, darkly sardonic, chuckle, "I don't… th-ink… I can wal-k…"

James stared at his best friend for another moment, seeing how physically and mentally abused he was. He took in the vampirically pale skin, the knotted, tangled, and unusually limp black hair, the deep shadows under his eyes and the gauntness of his cheeks. He looked at the ragged, threadbare prison uniform that did nothing to hide how alarmingly skinny he had grown. He saw how his body shivered and trembled and twitched in ways that made his heart ache.

James stared at his best friend for another moment and looked into his familiar, grey eyes – eyes that he'd seen tortured, mischievous, guarded, bare, strong, vulnerable, expressive, unreadable, sad, happy, angry, grinning, soft, infuriated, and any other emotion he could think of. He stared into those eyes for another moment and he realised that he'd never seen them like this before; like they were dead. He stared for another moment.

But only for a moment.

Then he pulled Sirius closer to him, into his arms, and stood – carrying his best friend and brother bridal style.

"You don't need to, Pads," he said fervently, for once grateful that his friend was so skinny – despite the muscle that he knew he usually possessed. "You just hang on, we're going to get out of here."

Sirius grunted once, the only expression of his pain he allowed out, before quirking the corner of his lip up slightly, "A-as glad as I am that… I'm being r-rescued… from the… dr-dreaded tower…" he grimaced again but James was infinitely glad to see something other than that… that blankness… deadness… in his eyes, "it's a bit of… of a let down that my Prince Charming… is my straight best friend."

Moody's snort echoed James' own, "Sorry that Potter's not up to your standards, but I doubt that you'd appreciate it if I was the one carrying you out."

Sirius shoulders gave a slight jerk in what was probably supposed to be a shrug, "A-at least you're single."

James smiled, but as he approached the steps he felt the return of the ominous chill that signalled the presence of dementors. He knew Sirius felt it too, because his slight shivering abruptly increased, and he closed his eyes and fell silent. Alarmed by the reaction, James immediately turned to Moody, eyes wide and panic obvious, but the Auror spoke before he could.

"I'll lead, you just worry about him," the grizzled Auror ordered, drawing his wand and moving ahead. James knew that the older man would be able to take care of any dementors they passed.

Sure enough, he heard Moody cast a Patronus and he felt the cold diminish a bit, although not much, which was to be expected of the miserable home of the dementors. A second later Moody's voice called an all clear, and James took a deep breath and pulled Sirius closer, before exiting, thankful to leave the hellish cell behind.

The walk back down the stairs was slow and fraught with tension and fear for the man lying now unaware in James' arms. This time, as they trekked, James was very conscious of the jeering taunts and piteous sobbing from the other prisoners as they passed. A few of them – Death Eaters, no doubt – even seemed to recognise him, if the angry cries were anything to go by. James was torn between lingering fury at the situation and worry for Sirius, and he couldn't stop himself from checking on his best friend every few seconds. He eventually seemed lose consciousness, and James was concerned to note that even then his trembling didn't halt.

It wasn't until he began to mutter that he became truly panicked.

"…No… No!" James stopped at the sudden moans, which were spoken in a fear-filled tone that he had never heard from Sirius before.

"Moody!?" He called in alarm, and he was clearly able to detect the panic in his own voice. The older man stopped where he was ahead of them, warily watching for the appearance of another dementor, and looked at Sirius, who had tensed his whole body and tightly shut his eyes, before he cursed viciously in a way that James would have ribbed him about if he wasn't completely focused on his brother's terrifying state.

"He's slipped into a memory," the Auror diagnosed, "Expecto patronum!"

A silver bulldog burst from the end of Moody's wand, circling James and Sirius and filling the dark, depressing passage with feelings of hope and happiness. James heard many of the prisoners around them exclaim in surprise and pleasure at the slight reprieve from their constant bleak and dismal torment, only to cry pathetically as the silver creature left them to follow its caster and his company. He sighed in relief when he looked down again at Sirius and saw that he had stopped muttering and that his body had relaxed and released some of the tension around his eyes. Sirius didn't wake up, but he looked peaceful in his oblivion in the way James knew he only did when he didn't dream at all.

He's alive. He's got his soul and he's OK and with you and he's alive. James knew that there were a lot of other things that he'd have to address about this whole situation. As he followed Moody on the path down to the portkey point at the bottom of the tower, James was more than aware that Sirius was far from out of the woods. He'd have a lot of physical and mental recovery to go through (malnutrition, hypothermia, post traumatic stress, after-effect of dementor exposure, the fact that he'd been falsely imprisoned by his friends in hell on Earth, almost being Kissed by dementors, being tortured with the Cruciatus, forcibly reliving his worst memories and probably a few other things that James would never forgive himself for), but James would be there every step of the way, and he knew that Lily would insist on it too.

And right then and there, the only thing that mattered to James was that he'd gotten Sirius back; still alive and soul intact. He had his best friend and brother – he had Padfoot – and when everything else eventually came up, James would be right by his side, where he'd always been.

And he'd make sure that they ignored all of Sirius' future plans that involved letting him go off on his own.