If his son was sure it was going to be a piece of cake, Harry was not. Too many memories from the last war kept him paranoid as he mounted his broom and took off. He had his wand out already, just in case, and was glad for it when the Death Eaters and Dementors appeared.
The change in the air was instantaneous. It went dark, cold and the air itself was harder to breathe. There was the unique sound that only Dementors could make filling the air and it was too much like his memories as he sent his stag circling around them, keeping the Dementors at bay long enough for them to get back.
He didn't need to be told to go back, but turned at once, staying in motion while following James, sending spells behind him to make sure James at least arrived safe before flying through the wards himself. He turned his broom, holding his wand still ready, waiting for the odd chance that one or more would get a window of opportunity to go through themselves but nothing happened.
Turning back to Jamie, he looked at him. "Hurt?" he asked, the worry clear in his voice.