AN: For QLFC Season 7, Round 5. Keeper: (Phantom Zone/ Prison Dimension) Write about a place where the worst criminals are imprisoned.

Word Count: 3000

Cell 934

AlwaysPadfoot

James Potter did not like surprises.

So when their cell door was buzzed open fifteen minutes before it was due to, James immediately swivelled so his feet were flat against the concrete floor. He and his cellmate, Remus, shared a look. The other man had been reading in silence while James had been listening to the small radio he'd brought from Commissary. Neither of them were expecting a visitor.

A shadow was cast across their cell floor and they were graced with the presence of Alastor Moody, more commonly known by the nickname Mad-Eye Moody. This was because the man had one eye that seemingly moved independently from the other.

The guard was short in stature, but his broad shoulders and permanent glare were enough to allow him some notoriety with most of the inmate population.

"Lupin, up. You're being reassigned," Moody said gruffly.

Out of the twenty-seven inmates James had shared a cell with, Remus was the only one who he hadn't had an altercation with. All of the others had either requested a transfer or found themselves relocated to solitary before they ended up in the hospital. Some had ended up there too, and James in solitary, but he wasn't the type to dwell on inconveniences. Remus was quiet; they had a mutual understanding that they would respect one another's personal space and their boundaries.

Both men rose to their feet at the same time.

"You deaf, Potter?" Moody growled. "I don't recall saying your name."

James remained on his feet, but simply spread his hands slightly. "Am I not allowed to shake a man's hand for not being an abhorrent roommate?"

"If I see any exchange of contraband—" Moody began.

"You won't." James stepped towards Remus, who was frowning, lowering his voice to speak to him as they clasped hands. "You request this?"

"Not at all," Remus said.

James trusted that he was an effective judge of character. Remus had no reason to request a transfer; he had no reason to lie to James either. After Moody's command for Remus to grab his things, the remainder of the time passed in quiet contemplation.

James and Remus had never elicited any suspicion. James, whilst his influence and hold on the prison had been apparent from day one, very rarely drew attention to himself. The other man, Remus Lupin, had arrived with scars on his face with a flurry of fierce rumours surrounding him. The initial interest had quickly died. Remus flew low under the radar, barely speaking in the presence of other inmates or guards.

"Close on cell 934!"

Moody's yelled command brought James back to himself. He was alone in his cell—a space across from him, where his roommate had been sat.

Peter Pettigrew was still a teenager. With mousy blonde hair and squinty eyes, he'd been an easy target for the more malicious inmates of HMP Azkaban. He hadn't exactly come to James attention at all at first; in fact, it was only when Pettigrew had been knocked to the ground at his feet that James noticed him.

One glare at Peter's attacker had been enough to get him to back off.

James had considered stepping over the boy, but instead he'd hauled him to his feet and gone to move past him. That was when Pettigrew had piped up, his nasal voice on emphasised by his bloody nose, revealing that he knew a little more about James than he appreciated. The boy had known things that James hadn't told a soul inside the barbed wire-topped walls that surrounded them. Long story short: they'd come to an arrangement. Pettigrew worked for him and in return, no one touched the younger boy.

Pettigrew was an asset. In under charges of Cyber-Terrorism, if there was information that he couldn't get then no one could.

Around mid-morning, his tea in one hand and a book in the other, James entered the mostly empty kitchens. Pettigrew was peeling potatoes in the far corner of the kitchen and the only other occupant of the kitchen scarpered upon seeing James. He was only a few steps away from him when the younger boy twisted on the spot, peeler clasped in his right hand.

"Now, Peter, what on earth are you going to do with that?" James said, cocking his head to the side slightly.

Leaning back against the countertop, James watched in mild fascination as Pettigrew's fingers loosened slightly around the peeler and then he exhaled slowly.

"Didn't know it was you, did I? If it's about Lupin's reassignment, I'm already looking into that."

James wouldn't have been surprised if the boy was Clairvoyant, that, or he'd bugged James' cell somehow. The former was more likely considering the guidelines for harmonious coexistence James held Pettigrew to.

"And?"

"Should know by this evening," Pettigrew said.

"What I need to know," James replied, sipping his tea, "is whether they're going to have the audacity to give me a new cellmate anytime soon."

The thought made his nose wrinkled in annoyance. Remus was perfect. Some newbie with big ideas about asserting their dominance was not something James wanted to deal with. He would, if that's what it took, but he'd much rather just have a quiet night with no more surprises.

"Potter, you're out of bounds."

Moody was back. Judging by the limp the guard was nursing today, he was clearly in pain, and therefore in a terrible mood. James held his mug of tea up by way of explanation and smiled easily. "Just acquiring some refreshment."

"You have a communal area for that," Moody growled. "Put it down and follow me."

James didn't move straight away, choosing to be cautious. Slowly he put the mug down and passed the book to Peter with an instruction to make sure it got back to his cell, before turning back to Moody.

"Where? You can't possibly haul me off to solitary for simply getting myself a hot drink."

"No?" Moody asked, looking like he was on the verge of dragging James out of the kitchen. "Watch how fast I write you up if you don't follow me."

James held his hands up in surrender. "Lead the way."

He should have guessed.

He should have known the second that Moody lead him in the complete opposite direction to solitary.

And now he was stood in front of the door to the visitors' room with Moody unlocking it with a key looped to his belt. It was not visiting hours; it wasn't even a day where visitors were allowed. James circled his shoulders and fixed an expression of indifference to his face. Moody pushed the door open and jerked his thumb through the doorway.

Avoiding his gaze, James slipped past him and was completely unsurprised to find his father sat behind the glass screen closest to the wall. His father always looked so out of place on the rare occasion that he visited. The look on his face was always one of disgust. He was perched on the edge of the bolted-down chair, squeezing anti-bacterial lotion into his hands, and frowning at the handset he would have to pick up to speak to James.

James inhaled deeply, strode over and sat down. Picking up the handset on his side of the screen, James met his father's deep blue eyes. He nodded to the handset to encourage his father to pick it up.

He just wanted to get this over with. He and his father didn't exactly see eye to eye.

Despite being well within the public eye due to his position in Parliament, Fleamont Potter was a real piece of work. He had started to see his father's true colours at a young age: his abuse of James and his mother; his enrollment of James at a boarding school aged seven; his eventual murder of James' mother. Nothing would make James happier than to punch through the glass screen and wrap his hands around his father's throat. He had nothing to lose.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

His father was holding the receiver ever-so-slightly away from his face, as though he would catch something if it touched him. He was expressionless as he studied James' appearance.

"You look out of sorts, James," his father said evenly. "What's wrong?"

"I find myself in terrible company, that's all."

His father's eyes narrowed. He'd never been slow on the uptake; he knew exactly what James meant by his response.

"Smart-mouthed as always, James."

"I do have to keep myself entertained in this shit hole somehow," James responded simply. "What are you doing here? Come to check-in? See if I'm going as crazy and murderous as you are?"

"Watch your tone, son," he sneered in response.

James smirked and leaned back in his chair, feeling a sense of great satisfaction at seeing his father's calm demeanour slip for just a brief moment. Upon seeing the look on James' face, however, his father readjusted his expression to make it appear as though he hadn't just snarled. James felt like even a small victory was huge when it came down to dear ol' dad.

"Now, now, calm down," James said smugly. "Remember what the doctor said about your temper."

His father leaned forward, lowering his voice even though they were alone in the room.

"If you think you're safe just because you're behind this glass, you are sorely mistaken."

James ground his teeth and, mirroring his father, leant forward too. He knew exactly why his father was here. He was here for the same reason he always came—Lily and Harry. Lily and Harry, and the evidence they had that would be his father's downfall. Three years James had kept his ex-girlfriend and son safe; he wasn't planning on giving them up anytime soon, or ever. As long as he was alive he could help them. As long as he was alive he could keep them safe.

"I will never tell you where they are."

"I know," his father said simply. "You think you're clever, and that you've got it all worked out. But what happens when you get killed in this Godforsaken place?"

James laughed hollowly. "You may be a bastard, but I inherited your ability to terrify people."

"How scared do you think your son will be when I get hold of his mother?"

James was rooted to his seat. His ears rang as his father put the receiver down and stood up behind the glass, a sick grin on his face. Fleamont brushed the creases from his trousers and went to turn away. It was only then that James found his words.

He slammed his fist against the screen. The grubby plexiglass shook in its pane and James ignored the shout of his name from outside the room.

"The day I walk out of here will be your last day on earth."

James knew from the slight flicker in his father's eyes that he knew what he'd said; the glass wasn't exactly soundproof.

His father smiled slowly. "Goodbye, James."

Moody was suddenly behind him and by the time James had turned to clock the guard and look back to his father, the man was gone. He tossed the receiver down and ground his teeth.

"I will be writing you up for that, Potter," Moody growled.

"Go for it," James snapped. "You've been dying to write me up all morning."

And with that, James slipped past the guard and walked away, needing to be alone. He ignored the guard's gruff call for him to come back. Mind swimming with his father's words, James needed somewhere quiet to analyse every word they'd exchanged. While James had been upfront with his threat, his father only visited because he craved a clue as to where James had hidden Lily and Harry.

Something was different this time, and not in a good way.

James spent the remainder of the day tucked out of sight. It was for the best, considering how volatile his mood felt right now.

Pettigrew still hadn't sought him out to inform him of the reason behind Remus' reassignment and that irritated him. How hard was it to track down the information James needed when snooping came so easily to the boy normally? He was leant back in his chair drumming his fingers across the tabletop when the first warning bell for them to return to their cells sounded. For a long moment, James continued to stare at the open door of the empty library before forcing himself to move.

The events of the day had him on the precipice of punching something or someone. For a man who so rarely lost his temper, James was angry at himself for letting his father wind him up so much.

He'd already made a call to move Lily and Harry as a precaution.

Walking fast, he had just reached the main cell block when someone touched his shoulder. Grabbing the unknown assailant's wrist he twisted it close to breaking point, only to hear a familiar squeak. He immediately let go when he realised it was Peter.

"Bloody hell, Potter," Pettigrew said roughly, holding his wrist to a chest.

"I'll break your arm if you ever do that again," James responded coolly.

There was a flicker of fear in Peter's watery eyes, and the younger man quickly looked away and cleared his throat. "Yes, well, sorry. Anyway, they've assigned a transfer to your cell. You're not gonna like it but he's Black's brother—"

"Potter! Pettigrew!" The yell of a guard startled them both. "Get to your cells. Now! I won't ask twice."

James swore under his breath and Peter scarpered at the first sign of being written up. Feeling disconnected from his surroundings, James turned and walked in the direction of his cell.

Asides from Black himself, he couldn't think of a worse roommate. They had never gotten on, not after Sirius Black had walked into this prison thinking he owned the place. Their initial confrontation had left Black unconscious on the bathroom floor. Since then they'd avoided one another, James had warned him to stay well away. He couldn't imagine what Black's brother would be like.

Cell 934 was in his line of sight now.

He'd have to assert himself immediately if the brother was anything like his sibling. James walked fast, shoes squeaking slightly as he walked.

As he reached the door, the bell rang for count and his new cellmate rose to his feet as James stood in place to be counted.

Their gazes met evenly. The first thing that James noticed was that other Black's body language was far more reserved than that of his brother. The second thing was the piercing look that fixated calmly on James through grey eyes. The younger Black, he guessed, whilst similar to his brother in looks with his sharp features and thick black hair, gave off an aura of serenity. Unusual, James thought, given the new surroundings and new inmates the younger Black would have to acclimatise to.

Neither of them spoke, not even after they'd been counted and the doors had buzzed to signify they were locked in for the night.

They both sat down on their bunks simultaneously. But to James' surprise, Black didn't say a word. He twisted his body, lay down on his bunk and turned to face the wall. James cocked his head to the side, surprised to say the least. He would have to watch him, of course, but so far so good.

To satisfy his paranoia, James picked up the book that Peter had left on the side and opened it to the page he'd last read. The cell fell into silence. The younger Black's breathing slowed indicating that he had fallen asleep. James read a chapter more than he intended just to be sure before he settled into bed. Staring up at the ceiling, James' mind played the events of the day over once more. He was still desperately trying to ignore the echo of his father's words during their conversation earlier. They'd also seemed…

...final.

How James had fallen asleep he wasn't sure.

How he'd woken up, however, he was sure of. There was a weight on top of his chest and in the blurry darkness he could just make out the outline of someone sat above him. Said person had pinned James hands above his head and it took all of his strength not to attempt to escape straight away.

"You know, if you wanted to share a bed you could have asked nicely," James said.

A wisp of a laugh left Black's mouth. "Your father said you were a smart arse."

James' teeth gritted, but he forced a look of indifference. "Oh, so you've had the privilege of meeting Daddy Dearest? Aren't you a lucky boy."

"I have," Black responded. "Bit of a prick if you ask me."

There was a lull and James tested Black's grip around his wrists. He was dragging this out. If Black and his father had spoken then there was only one reason that Black was here and that was information.

"Do we have to have this discussion with you on top of me?"

"I'm quite enjoying it," Black responded. "Aren't you, James?"

"Get to your point, Black," James said.

"Direct." Regulus raised his eyebrows and smirked. "Your father wants me to kill you—any information you unwillingly give me as well would just be a bonus."

James felt like time had stopped, a million ways to dislodge Black from atop of him running through his head. Even when he managed to do so, he had no weapons. He could easily be disadvantaged because the younger Black, he suspected, would be prepared. In James' panic, he almost didn't hear Black's next words.

"Unfortunately for your father, I'm not going to kill you." And with those words, he released James' wrists. "Name's Regulus. I'm your new ally."

Wary as James felt, this was a surprise he could get on board with.