CHAPTER 2:

THE FIRST HUNTER AND THE BOY WHO LIVED

Harry glared at the elderly man over the table that had been set up by the Doll within the Workshop. The old man seemed, if not contrite, then a little cowed, or at least less belligerent. But Harry remembered the way Gehrman had treated the Doll, and, having flashbacks to the Dursleys (which even now were too hazy for his liking), it was part of why he had intervened.

Gehrman had promised answers and refreshment. Harry hoped both would be forthcoming. And the Doll soon set out some tea and biscuits, though given that this was a dream reality, he wondered if it would help sate him. Certainly, the morsels Micolash gave him sustained him in Mergo's Loft seemed to keep him alive, as did the snacks the Doll snuck out to him, and Harry was fairly certain he had spent at least a couple of years there. As fucked up as time was in that domain, Micolash kept a calendar, oddly enough.

As he sipped from a cup of tea, Gehrman said, "I normally don't do this for newcomers, but they're usually Hunters bound to the Dream. I tried setting out a tea service once for a new Hunter, but that one…got understandably confused and violent, as he had just been eviscerated by an ornery Beast. Most unpleasant, I am sure." He frowned, and then peered at him. "Now that I come to think of it, where do you come from, lad? Your accent sounds like it comes from Yharnam's surroundings, but I've got the impression you come from elsewhere."

"…I come from Britain," Harry said. He was already fairly sure that the world this dream world was attached to wasn't the Earth he knew.

Gehrman didn't recognise the name, but he sighed. "Huh. I don't know the name of that place. Well, you are not the only Hunter from another world to make it here, though most are drawn from Yharnam and its surrounds."

"I am not a Hunter. I am a wizard."

"Hmm. I suppose the Doll spoke to you about them," Gehrman said. "And a wizard, eh? If you are worried about keeping it secret, don't bother. I used to work with the great university of Byrgenwerth, the greatest seat of learning in the land…or at least it used to be. Amongst the manifold subjects they studied were the arcane. A wizard barely rates a yawn…as long as he doesn't shit on my face like a common pigeon."

"You were treating her badly," Harry retorted. The Doll had left the Workshop building for now.

"And you charged in, thinking you were her knight in shining armour?" Gehrman retorted. "She's not human. She's a thing, a created object, given a bare semblance of life. Don't be fooled, she's not remotely human, and she never will be." But as Harry's anger built, Gehrman seemed to sag in on himself. "…Sorry, that was cruel of me. You've already become attached to her. But she has many unpleasant connotations for me. You wanted to know where you were?"

"I know we're in a place called the Hunter's Dream, and this is some sort of dream world," Harry said. "But…I just escaped from another, run by some birdcage-wearing lunatic called Micolash…"

At this, Gehrman looked at him sharply, his pleasant demeanour gone for a moment. "Micolash?! Did you say Micolash?!"

"Yes. He mentioned your name a few times, actually."

"Oh yes…we were once colleagues…though he was somewhat junior, having joined our ranks rather late into our venture…but you say he was in another dream world?"

"…Yes. He called it the Nightmare of Mensis, though the building he was mostly in, he called Mergo's Loft. He used this School of Mensis thing to create a dream world, and most of them didn't survive. He kept on going on about someone called Kos giving him eyes in his brain, like Kos did to Rom, or how someone or something called Mergo would lead them to greatness, or rambling about the cosmos or some muddy lake…he was barking mad. I mean, he was wearing what looked like a bloody birdcage on his head or something."

"The Mensis Cage," Gehrman said. "Said to help protect his brain while dealing with the likes of the Great Ones." He scoffed in disdain. "I remember him showing off the prototype drawing. Damned fool must have overreached himself in his ambitions. Well, if you really have met Micolash, then perhaps you know a little about me, about the Hunters and the Healing Church."

"…A bit," Harry admitted. "Micolash said something about the Healing Church using a special blood, the Old Blood, that healed everything. But he also said something about the Healing Blood unleashing the beast within him. Then again, half of what he said was begging Kos to give him eyes. I think he also said something about Mensis once being part of the Church, and that Laurence, the guy who founded it, was a fool to rely on the Old Blood, and that Provost Willem of Byrgenwerth was a senile coward for not moving fast enough. But…I suppose that's it, really. He didn't really talk directly to me much about the history of…well, your world, I suppose."

Gehrman nodded thoughtfully. "I see. Well, perhaps I should elaborate. Decades ago, I'm not sure how many now, at least half a century, there was the work of Provost Willem, the then-leader of Byrgenwerth, a seat of learning. He, along with his researchers, did much to uncover the ancient artifacts of the Pthumerians, the people who lived on these lands millennia ago, before their civilisation collapsed."

"…I think Micolash mentioned them. In fact, now that I come to think about it, while he was experimenting on me, there was this weird woman in white, with pale hair and skin, her clothes covered in blood. She was weeping. He called her Queen Yharnam of the Pthumerians…but I thought that odd, because of the city being named Yharnam."

"Named after the last Queen of Pthumeru," Gehrman said. "Yharnam was built over these catacombs, the Pthumerian Labyrinth. Many artifacts and things were brought out. But other things wander out too. Monsters, remnants of what caused the collapse of the Pthumerian civilisation. There were people, Hunters, who sought out these monsters to slay them, so that they could not harm the people. I was one of them. Byrgenwerth originally paid me to bring them the carcasses of those beasts, but they then retained me to act as a bodyguard during their expeditions. I even trained a number of them, and they eventually called me the First Hunter of Byrgenwerth…or the First Hunter for short."

Harry had to admit, the tale was fascinating, and Gehrman seemed to be getting into his stride. "Sounds like Indiana Jones."

"Who? Ah, never mind. Anyway, strange reserves of blood were often found in storage in the labyrinth. One lot was stolen by a rogue researcher long before I joined Byrgenwerth, who sold it to the nobles of Cainhurst. They became depraved fools who thirsted for the blood of others, and long-lived to boot. Many called them vampires, and not wholly inaccurately. The irony is, one of my best students came from Cainhurst, the Lady Maria." At this, a wistful look came across his features. "Ah, she was more noble than any of them put together. More noble than any of us."

As he looked into the distance, Harry gently urged him to continue. "But this blood…is this the Old Blood Micolash mentioned?"

"Old Blood comes in many varieties, lad. What Cainhurst got was what became known as Vileblood, a term those depraved fools embraced as their own," Gehrman said. "Of course, that's when Laurence came into the picture. He began developing ways of using the Healing Blood to cure illnesses and ailments of all kinds. Willem counselled caution, but Laurence, who wished to help the people, broke away from Byrgenwerth. He had family who were deathly ill. Laurence took many with him: myself, Maria…Ludwig, Archibald, Paarl…we decided to be more adventurous where Willem, in our minds, was timid. Oh, our hubris caught up with us, but Willem himself had much to answer for."

"…In what way?"

"Hubris takes many forms, lad. I suffered from it myself. Laurence believed he could use the Healing Blood to help advance the evolution of humanity. Damned fool…as were we all. The Healing Blood merely triggered the resurgence of the Beastly Scourge. And worse…the Healing Blood originated with the Great Ones. Kos was a Great One, and so is Mergo. Gods, or rather, devils. Or just monsters with vast powers that could be mistaken as deities. Who can say? But their power is real. Their threat is why I came to be bound to this place, in order to ensure that, even if the Workshop collapsed, I would be around to train Hunters to not only take on the beasts that afflict Yharnam and its surrounds on a regular basis, but any malign Great Ones that make themselves known."

Harry frowned. So, this man had willingly bound himself to the Hunter's Dream? And if he had been trapped here for decades…well, he didn't remember much about his time in Azkaban, but while it was probably worse, given how badly the Dementors affected him, it was still rather disconcerting, to think of this man being trapped here. "You're trapped here, aren't you?"

"Of my own volition, but yes."

Harry actually felt some pity for the man. He hadn't before, despite him being in a wheelchair, and missing a leg, if the peg leg replacing his right leg was any indication. After all, the man had shot at him, and berated the person who had helped him when he first arrived. And yet, he had willingly imprisoned himself. "Can I free you?"

"…Don't bother, Harry. This is atonement. I have sinned so much in my life. Still, you pity the one who attacked you?"

"…I know what it is like to be a prisoner. I was…accused of a murder I didn't commit. I was locked away into prison, where soul-eating demons ate away at my good emotions. I…don't remember much before I ended up in Micolash's custody. I think the warlock who murdered my parents when I was a baby tried to sacrifice me to something called an Amygdala, which I thought was part of the brain, something my friend Hermione told me, but…"

"An Amygdala is another type of Great One," Gehrman said solemnly. "And Great Ones transcend reality as we know it. That may be how you ended up with Micolash. I have heard rumours of Amygdalas snatching the unwary and transporting them into other realms. And before you decide to track one down to try and get back to your world…you can't ask or demand anything of a Great One. Not without there being a price to pay, one that will cost you more than you can countenance."

"That's even assuming I can leave this place," Harry muttered. He wasn't sure tracking down an Amygdala was a good idea anyway. He was virtually catatonic at the time, but he was pretty sure it wiped out most of the Death Eaters and killed Voldemort. Going up to it and demanding to be taken back sounded like a bad idea.

"Oh, you are not bound to this place, not like myself and the Doll are," Gehrman said. "While you are not a Hunter bound to the Dream, I imagine you could leave it, and perhaps come back if you wished. If the Messengers like you enough, they'll erect lampposts that you can use to return at key points in the waking world." At this, Gehrman became solemn. "…Lad, Harry…sorry for attacking you like that. I've been trapped here for so long, with so much pent-up resentment…it doesn't make it right, I know, and you've clearly become attached to the Doll. The Hunters bound to this Dream are chosen, and I chose to be here, but you didn't. You shouldn't be here. You're too young. You're what, eighteen? Nineteen?"

"About that, I think," Harry said.

"Exactly. I have seen Hunters as young as you, many trained by me…but they chose that. You didn't."

Harry was struck by Gehrman's words. He couldn't quite tell if they were sincere or not, or rather, that they were wholly sincere. He knew they were sincere to a degree. But after his aggression and hatred towards the Doll, who was the sweetest thing, well, Harry couldn't help but be wary. Too many times, he had been betrayed. He was still trying to figure out which memories were real and which ones weren't, but he was pretty sure they mostly were real, if partly obscured by fog.

So, what he was going to do was give Gehrman a chance. A singular chance. The elderly man had been at least upfront, though something told him that this was not usually the case, nor had he told him everything. That was more than Dumbledore did.

"…I'll stay here for now, or at least use this place as a base of operations while I go into Yharnam. I mean, is that all right?"

"Sure, but Yharnam, to my knowledge, is peaceful for now. A Hunt may be on the horizon, but when it will come, I don't know. And Harry? While it is rumour that the Healing Blood causes the Beastly Scourge in Yharnam, the Healing Church has been known to silence those who speak out publicly against it." Gehrman's rheumy blue eyes sharpened. "For your sake, don't charge off on some quixotic crusade against them. The Healing Church has changed for the worse since Laurence succumbed to the Scourge."

Harry nodded, albeit reluctantly. "Do they take potshots at ravens, though?"

"…Not as far as I know," Gehrman said. "If you do go to Yharnam, there are people there who can help you. Two of them were Hunters who passed through the Dream before, and I heard of what became of them from later Hunters. Djura now lives in Old Yharnam, protecting the beasts there, hoping to find a way to cure them of the Scourge, when it's an exercise in futility. Eileen is now a Crow, a Hunter of Hunters who deals with rogue Hunters. I daresay you can trust Eileen in particular more than you can trust me. But you're more than welcome to stay here. It gets lonely, with only the Doll and the Messengers for company."

Harry bit back a retort about how he treated the Doll, and nodded, finishing his tea, which hadn't gone cold, oddly enough, in the interim. "I'm going to go talk to the Doll, okay? Thanks for telling me what's going on. Though I'm surprised you didn't comment on me being framed for murder."

Gehrman chuckled mirthlessly. "I've seen all kinds of people, Harry. While everyone has the capacity to kill within them, I know those who revel in it, or have no qualms about murdering for gain. No…if you did kill that person, then you're haunted by it."

"…In a way, I did kill him," Harry muttered, thinking back to Voldemort's order to Wormtail. Kill the spare. "I may not have been the one to kill him, but I got him into the situation where he was murdered."

"…You have my condolences. But…if you ever get drawn into the Hunt…always remember that sometimes, you may have to kill, if only to defend yourself. And not all beasts who were once human look like beasts. Sometimes, they hide their beastly nature beneath their skin…"

With those haunting words, Harry left the Workshop to go find the Doll, who was kneeling, seemingly praying at a gravestone. "…What happened to them?" he asked gently after a suitable period.

"Oh!" the Doll started in surprise, getting to her feet. Harry only just realised that she was considerably taller than him, taller than many men, he'd wager. "You have finished your talk with Gehrman?"

"Yes. Thanks for the tea."

"I am a Doll, made to serve," she said, before smiling demurely. "But your thanks are appreciated." She looked to the gravestone. "And to answer your question, this tombstone is that of a Hunter who passed through the Dream. Gehrman released him from his duties, as he did to all others. Perhaps he still lives. I know not whether that is the case. I am bound to the Dream, so I cannot visit the waking world to confirm this."

Harry, staring at her, was reminded of many things. He remembered Dobby and Winky, the House Elves poorly treated by their masters. Of Lupin, a reluctant werewolf, who allowed himself to be confined during his transformations. And of himself, when he grew up with a boot cupboard under some stairs as a bedroom.

So, for the first time since he regained human form, he flung his arms around her, and gave her a hug. She stiffened in his embrace, but relaxed. "I'm sorry," he said.

"…Why are you sorry, Harry?"

"I'm sorry both you and Gehrman are trapped here, and that I might be able to go freely back to reality."

She gently patted his back. "It's fine. I am used to it."

But you shouldn't be, Harry thought. And it was there he made a solemn vow. He was going to try and find a way to allow the Doll to leave the Dream. Gehrman may have allowed himself to be imprisoned, but he knew, thanks to what the Doll had told him before he regained his human form, that the Dream was all the Doll knew.

And that shouldn't be…

CHAPTER 2 ANNOTATIONS:

So, some exposition for Harry.

Now, people are probably wondering at the 180 in attitude for Gehrman towards Harry, as well as him being helpful, more so than he ever was in the game. You might be berating me for my lack of consistency here, but allow me to elucidate my reasoning.

The first is that Gehrman's ire is mostly directed at the Doll, and he had no reason to believe that Harry was anything more than a really intelligent bird. When Harry revealed himself to be human, Gehrman decided that diplomacy was more of the answer, especially as Harry, while understandably belligerent, has not actually attacked him as a human. Gehrman isn't pulling out the Burial Blade yet, though if Harry did actually attack him, he would.

The second is that Gehrman's sanity, I believe, is somewhat variable. This chapter marks him at his most lucid. The third is that Harry is very young, young enough to be his grandson or even great-grandson, I wager, so this is partly why Gehrman relates it. Fourthly, he's trying to get information out of Harry, and feels a more diplomatic approach would work. Finally, he realises that Harry was allowed to stay in the Dream by the Moon Presence, and may be a potential Hunter.

You'll note that, while Gehrman does say what the Healing Church has done and what it's fallen into, he says nothing about the Fishing Hamlet pogrom, or the Choir. He hints at the latter to a degree, and he does say he needs penance and atonement, but he knows he will alienate Harry.

Of course, as Harry and the Doll grow closer, Gehrman's malevolence will come back.

No numbered annotations this time.