AN: Happy New Years!

For Sirius, consciousness returned in the unforgiving form of a blistering headache the likes of which he hadn't felt since his partying days back at Hogwarts. A faint agonized groan was the second thing he became aware of, and it took a couple of moments for his brain to register the fact that the sound was actually coming from his throat.

"Hey, take it easy there mate."

The voice that spoke sounded friendly, and oddly familiar, but Sirius couldn't begin to even try to figure out who it was through the dull throb knocking on the inside of his skull. It felt like a very determined troll was trying to bash its way out of his head. Finally wrenching his eyes open, the head of House Black caught sight of the worried face of his best friend staring back at him with some concern.

"You alright there Sirius? You gave us a bit of a scare there mate."

Brain finally rebooted, Sirius worked his dry mouth for a moment before he managed to croak out his question.

"What happened?"

James smiled grimly as he filled a nearby glass with water from a pitcher. Helping his longtime friend sit up on the military cot, he pushed the glass into the waiting man's hand where it was greedily emptied in three rapid gulps.

"You got lucky that's what," replied James with a slightly amused look. "Got backhanded by one of the ravagers when we charged out to meet them, though if it had actually been aiming to hit you there'd be nothing left but a smear on the ground."

"Lily? Harry? Dumbledore?" demanded Sirius as he held the glass out for another refill.

"We all made it through ok; you took the worst of it. You've been out cold for a week now. Dumbledore went back to England so he could round up help through Wizemgot, healers have been portkeying in from all over the world the past few days. Turns out Harry is the last ranking healer on the island, so he ended up having to organize the mess of international healers into a cohesive medical unit. He's been working round the clock managing the different groups and helping out with surgery. Lily's been putting her healer training to good use helping out where she can. I've mostly been volunteering to go out to mop up the remaining stragglers of Blackhand's undead army."

Taking a good look at his friend for the first time, Sirius noticed the tired shadow underneath James's eyes and the deep worry lines that had seemingly sprung up since had last been conscious. James who normally was meticulously dressed had traded in his normal black dress robes or a heavy set of what appeared to be cobbled together leather armor. Here and there were telltale gashes and marks of close calls could be seen, adding to his disheveled appearance. Noticing the revolver on his friend's belt and the handle of a blade sticking out over his shoulder Sirius raised a questioning eyebrow.

"What's with the muggle weapons mate? Trying to blend in with the locals?"

Barking a dark laugh James fingered the worn handle of the blade over his shoulder. "I wish that were the case. Blackhand might be gone, but there's still quite a few of his lieutenants running around causing trouble though most of his followers had been taken down with him during the finale battle from what I understand. But his undead army is still around; him being gone just means they're no longer fighting as a controlled unit, which makes them only a little less dangerous. A lot of the creatures he created are very resistant to magic."

Here James paused to pull out the machete and stare down at his own reflection in the gleaming blade with distant look on his face. It wasn't an expression Sirius was used to seeing on him, but James wore it well.

"Gotta finish them off the hard way," the head of Potter House murmured with a haunted look in his eyes. After a moment James cleared his throat uncomfortably and sheathed the weapon. Lacking anything else to do, he topped off his friend's glass once more.

After polishing off his third glass, Sirius finally felt satisfied and lay back down on the cot. "What happened to the captain?"

James shook his head in disbelief. "He made it through with barely a scratch, crazy bastard. He's one of the few last ranking members of the military here, last I heard he'd gotten two promotions this past week and made it all the way to colonel just so he can deal with the survivors. No word on who's going to end up leading this ragtag army, but if we're going by current responsibility and workload I'd peg Railey as the next general."

"Heh don't suppose he'd lend us his army to go knock on old Voldey's door?" joked Sirius semi-seriously.

"We've been wondering the same thing," replied James, expression thoughtful. "I don't have exact numbers here, but they've got veterans that have spent their entire lives fighting. They'd give Tom and his minions a kick in the pants if it ever came to blows. But I doubt they'd be willing to jump into another war just after finishing their own. Hell I wouldn't."

The two men fell into somber silence as they both became lost in their own thoughts. The decade of cold war back home had taken its toll. Many families had been torn apart, whether by the sides members had chosen or in losing people. The economy was down the drain, no one felt safe anywhere. Major attacks were infrequent, but death eaters were boldly moving about in groups in broad daylight shaking down homes and businesses for protection money. When some brave soul finally mustered up the courage to call the aurors, the culprits would be long gone before they arrived. It wasn't a hopeless war, but it was damn close.

The momentary hush was interrupted by the opening of the tent flap, ushering in rays of sunlight that momentarily blinded the two men. When their eyes settled, they say the tired form of one Harry Potter, or John Stewart as he had introduced himself.

"Harry, how did it go?" asked James, surprising Sirius. Had he accepted his birth origins so quickly? The slight pause in step hinted that it was still a work in progress.

"About as well as a clearing out a backed up toilet with a spoon," grumbled the short haired Potter. "Why is it whenever people of different nations have to work together, they find every way conceivable to hinder the process?"

Sirius chuckled hoarsely. "You'll find that people of the same nation working together will do the same thing mate."

"Finally decided to wake up Black?" asked the healer as he strode over to the bedside.

"Hey laying here unconscious is a lot of work," Sirius mock protested

Chuckling, the young man cast a dozen spells over the bedbound man in rapid succession, watching the various glowing colors that ranged from pale blue to dark yellow.

"Follow the light with your eyes," Harry ordered as he lit up the tip of his wand and waved it in front of Sirius's face. After a few moments he nodded with satisfaction. "One more thing, sit up."

Hauling himself into a sitting position, Sirius groaned as his body protested the sudden motion.

"Stand up."

Struggling to his feet, he took a few tentative steps towards his godson who had backed up as he stood. Turning his body as Harry circled around him, he ended up facing the military cot he had been sleeping in with his godson in front.

Harry fluffed up the pillow and dropped bonelessly into the makeshift bed and gave a huge yawn before turning to his side.

"What-?" asked Sirius in bewilderment.

"You're fine Black. Make yourself useful and go help out around the camp or something, you've been sleeping in my damn bed for a whole week."

Laughing at his friends disbelieving look, James clapped his best friend on the shoulder. "Healer's orders mate, time to get to work."

"Did I just get pranked?" asked Sirius in astonishment.

"He is my son," snickered James as he helped his friend towards the exit. The gentle breathing from the motionless body on the cot indicated that Harry had already fallen asleep. "Come on Padfoot, let's leave John to it. He hasn't slept more than a few hours ever since the mess of a battle a week ago."

A week later

Lily found she could not quite take her eyes off her wayward son as if she feared that if she lost sight of him for but a moment he would vanish back into her dreams. It was odd really; objectively she had only had her baby boy for a little over a year in her life before she had lost him. There really was no call for the amount of attachment she had for him, a child she had never had the chance to know. In her mind, her son was still the tiny toddler that had yet to fully learn to walk who only knew enough words to call her mama. Seeing the disciplined young man who walked with the self-assurance of someone who knew they could handle themselves was surreal, even if her mind told her it was inevitable that her baby would grow up.

Many times in her dreams she had been tearfully reunited with her lost son, at last able to bring her baby boy back into the fold of her family. While there were variations to how the events took place in her sleeping fantasies, Harry had always looked the same in them. Always a near carbon copy of James with his dark crow's nest hair and her emerald eyes that always sparkled with happiness. Of course she had never shared these wistful nighttime conjurations with anyone, not even her husband. Never in her wildest dreams did she think that one day they would become true.

The young man that stood before her indeed matched her husband in height and stature if not a bit broader at the shoulders. His close cropped hair made it difficult to see the genetic quirk that made the Potter men so easily identifiable. Scars traced themselves across his cheek and eye, an attention drawer that did little to take away from the intensity of his gaze. There was little warmth and happiness in his eyes, just a cautious analysis of everything they took in, a slow heavy mountain like ponderousness that hinted at an immovability that came with a lifetime of struggle.

"You got everything John?" asked James as he approached his son.

It was odd having to call him by a different name, but the couple had agreed that though he was indeed their son they had no right to try to enforce upon him their own desires as parents when he had led a separate life of his own for the past sixteen years. He would need time to integrate back into the world, and time to get used to the idea that he had kin. They would simply have to accept him for who he was and be grateful that though he may be a stranger at the moment they would at least have the chance to get to know him and perhaps one day make him feel like they were family.

"Everything I own in the world," the young man remarked with amusement in his eyes as he hefted the sparsely filled dark green duffle bag he had thrown across his shoulder.

Turning he hesitated as he caught sight of Captain Railey, who had recently been promoted to General due to his role in the final battle and the lack of surviving upper echelons of the military hierarchy. Offering a picture perfect salute, he waited for his CO to return the gesture.

"Aw hell son, I think we're beyond that," grunted the dark skinned general as he offered his hand.

The two men shook and turned the handshake into a one armed hug that involved a fair amount of back thumping.

"Take care of yourself John," said Railey as he pulled back, voice gruff with unspoken emotion. "The world's not as safe and nice as you might imagine."

"Can't be any worse than here right?" asked John with a smirk as he stepped back from his mentor.

"You'll find that some battles aren't fought with wand and sword," replied the dark skinned man. "Take it from me though; those battles can be even worst in their own ways."

This time Railey drew his own hand back into a salute which John returned without hesitation.

"Will I see you again sir?"

Railey smiled. "World's a small place."

With that he turned and headed back to the camp, leaving his former second in command with the strangers that were his family.

"Ready to go son?" Lily flinched as she once again let slip the thought most forefront in her mind. It hadn't been the first time since they had arrived on the island. But while in the past she would get a strange look from John and a long pause before he replied, this time there was nothing but a smile on his face.

"Yes mam."

Returning her son's smile uncertainly she turned and shared a happy look with her husband. It wasn't a huge step, but it was a step forward.

AN: I fast forwarded the story a little, but I promise the details of the battle will be returning in bits and pieces as I continue on. I've had big plans for this story and I've had quite some time to get the story flowing in my head. Question is how long it will take me to put it on paper! We'll meet the family next. Or maybe we'll meet Daphne ;p we'll see how it goes. Review and let me know your thoughts.