CHAPTER 4:

SERENDIPITY

"Farewell, Harry. May you find your worth in the waking world."

Those were the words the Doll used when Harry finally plucked up the courage to use one of the headstones that, allegedly, would transport him to Yharnam. He'd spent a couple of days trying to get to know both the Doll and Gehrman, the latter somewhat reluctantly, as well as practising his magic and his Animagus transformation, but he decided that he needed to see if he could use the headstone, and the Messengers, to travel to reality. It was a bit of a gamble, and the transition was unpleasant, like sinking into cold mud.

And yet, as reality swam back into focus around him, he realised that he may have succeeded. The only location he could go to was in front of a house in Central Yharnam, with the other locations defunct for now. But while not a Hunter, he had enough of a tie to the Dream to be able to see and activate the lanterns that he could use to go back. In theory, anyway. He did see a lantern next to him that the Messengers were pawing at, so maybe it did work. And there were no others around.

He intended to explore the city, though. To his annoyance, it was nighttime, and an overcast night at that. Rain was beginning to fall, and he heard a distant rumble of thunder. No wonder there wasn't anyone in the immediate area. For a moment, he was tempted just to go back to the Dream, before deciding to try it out anyway. Changing into a raven, he flew into the sky, and began soaring around Yharnam.

The city did look spectacular, he had to admit. The architecture was beautiful, in a grim, Gothic way. Like something out of that Hammer Horror film Dudley had begged his parents to get on VHS, only to traumatise both himself and Harry. Only, this city had real horror.

He perched on a ledge and listened in to a couple of inhabitants, both with tattered clothes and features that seemed altogether too hairy to be entirely human, with bloodshot eyes with strange warped pupils. "Didja hear? There's been more attacks," one said.

"It's more beasts. Filthy outsiders being seduced by the Healing Church," the other said. "They don't have the strength to deal with the Healing Blood, keep turning into beasts."

"Of course they don't!" cackled the first one. "But there may be another Hunt soon. The Church is doing nothing about it. A shame old Ludwig went mad, he's worth a thousand Hunters."

"Gentlemen, I do hope you're not impugning us," growled a rasp of a voice, speaking with what sounded like an Irish accent. It came from a tall man, burly, with a wide-brimmed hat that mostly obscured his features, save for the bearded lower half of his face. He was accompanied by a slighter man with clothing that looked like it was faded yellow, his face obscured by a high collar and a tricorn hat.

"Stop using your fancy words, Gascoigne!" sneered one of them, unwisely. "You Hunters all go blood-drunk sooner or later! Mark my words, if the Crow Bitch doesn't get you or Henryk one of these days, someone else will."

The man in yellow grabbed the man by the throat and smashed him against the wall. "Yeah, but I've been hearing rumours that you've been threatening Viola and my granddaughters," the man in yellow snarled back. His voice was even raspier, and sounded older than even Gascoigne's. "Come after me and mine, and I'll make even the Choir or Mensis blanch with what I do to you. Got it? And lay off the blood, grog's safer."

"Piss off, Henryk," croaked the man he was chokeslamming. "Anyway, who's to say you won't do it to your own, eh?"

Henryk snarled, and punched the man, sending him reeling into unconsciousness. Gascoigne said, "Take him home, get him to sleep it off. And if you threaten my family, I'll come after you."

The other man spat, before he began carrying the man away. "You'll probably kill your family yourself, you wanker," he said as a parting shot.

After the two belligerents left, Henryk removed his hat, running a hand through his thinning, greying hair. "Damn his eyes, but he's right. Eileen's probably got to put me down sooner rather than later. I feel it, Gascoigne. At this rate, I'll probably have to head down into Old Yharnam and hope Djura has room for me."

"Djura lost too much in the Old Yharnam fire," Gascoigne rasped. "I understand his grief, but when the beasts turn, they lose what made them human in the first place. You can't cure that, and he's a damned lunatic for believing that. I just hope I can hold on for Viola and the children's sake. The Church is no help these days. Amelia has gone barmy, reduced to praying, and the Choir's calling the shots. It's enough to make a man sick. Come on, we'd better hurry back. The rain's nearly here, and there's no sign of beasts to hunt, tonight at least…"

After the two men walked away, Harry took flight again. The rain was spotty, and not enough to hamper his flight. But he might have to find shelter for the night sooner rather than later. He was flying over what Gehrman called Cathedral Ward, though, looking around. Pride of place went to the massive Grand Cathedral, perched on a hill, though there were many other buildings in the area.

One that caught his eye was a tower that led into an upper part of Cathedral Ward. He noticed it because he heard a distant gunshot from that direction. As he flew closer, he saw a pair of figures fighting near the top. Both wore strange capes that seemed to be made of dark feathers. One wore a bird-like mask, like those Harry saw in a book about the Black Death, while the other wore a strangely-shaped metal helmet.

As he got closer, he heard one of them, the one with the helmet, say, "You fight like a younger woman, with nothing held back. Admirable, but mistaken, Eileen."

The one with the plague mask, presumably Eileen, said, "It's no mistake to deal with you, Bloody Crow." Her voice was a low and gentle, with a Northern accent, compared to the cultured tones of her opponent, who also had an accent not unlike the Doll's.

"You were not my desired work of art this night, but I will handily deal with you." He kicked her to the floor, before raising his pistol. "You should have…GAH!"

He exclaimed because Harry took the opportunity to divebomb the helmeted man, crapping all over the helmet. He then flapped and scrabbled at the Bloody Crow viciously, only for the Bloody Crow to grab him. "You feathered fiend, I shall…"

Suddenly, Eileen charged with a roar, smashing into the Bloody Crow, and sending the Bloody Crow and Harry toppling off the side of the tower. For a time, they fell into the rain-speckled darkness, before they hit the ground…

Thankfully, the fall wasn't bad for Harry, between his current bird-like body and the fact that he was cushioned by the body of the Bloody Crow. With a croak of agony, he scrabbled to his feet. He was in a garden, somewhere in the city. A beautiful, if neglected, one. And there, on a hill, was a building.

He stared, shifting back into his human form. It was as if he had fallen right back into the Hunter's Dream. That was definitely the Workshop.

Before he could comprehend anything, he was grabbed, and hurled against a tree. His assailant was the Bloody Crow, albeit sans helmet. His features were very like the Doll's, but more masculine. His eyes danced with madness and malice, and a grotesque grin split his features. "When is a raven like a man? You cost me my prey, little changeling. I don't like being interrupted on a kill, but perhaps you are a greater prize, well worth going home without blood on my hands. I think you'll make a fine gift for my queen, a true work of art. Maybe then she'll let me back into her good graces."

Harry tried to break the man's grip as he held him to the tree, but couldn't. Instead, he placed a hand on the man's chest. He hoped he was right about this man, that he was an unrepentant killer. "What's wrong? At a loss for words? Haven't got anything to say?"

"I do, actually," Harry hissed, concentrating on his magic, and hoping beyond all hope that this would work. "…Reducto."

Gore burst out of the back of the Bloody Crow's body as the Cutting Curse shot through it, annihilating his heart. The man's grip slackened, and he stared down at the hole in his chest, the ribs peeking through the gaping hole as he staggered back. As he stared at Harry, a disbelieving smile on his face, Harry put his hand up, against his head. Another spell later, and the Bloody Crow's head burst like an offal-filled pinata, blood, bone and brain splattering around the area. It took too long for the man's body to finally sag to the ground, like a puppet with its strings cut.

But Harry sagged to his knees soon afterwards. Not because of injury or exhaustion, but shock. True, it wasn't the first time he had killed someone, but Quirrel was inadvertent, and Harry hadn't actually witnessed the death, while with the Diary, it wasn't the same. It was a memory, a living, malignant memory of Voldemort.

No, he had just killed someone. In self-defence, and the guy seemed like a murderous lunatic, but…he had killed someone, and seen him die. It was like Cedric all over again, only it was his hand that did the deed.

He had no idea how long he was sitting there in the dirt, raindrops spattering around him, until a voice came along. "…Are you all right?"

He didn't realise that someone had approached until they had spoken. He looked up to find Eileen looking at him. "Do I look all right?" he asked.

"No, you don't. And judging by what's here, I can tell why. Are those feathers in your hair?"

Harry blinked, before he nodded. "…How did you get down here?"

"Rope. Tricky climb, but a good rope is a good tool for a Hunter of Hunters," she said. "A moment." She knelt down, and examined the corpse of the Bloody Crow. "…How the bloody hell did you kill him? I've seen this bastard shrug off Quicksilver Bullets like they were spitballs."

Harry shrugged, trying to hide his anxiety and horror at killing this man. If magic was known in this world like Gehrman and the Doll had hinted, then he had little to lose. "Magic. Believe it or not, I was the raven that attacked him."

She looked at him sharply. "Were you now? I must say, I've never heard of magic that allows you to turn into an animal, save for fairytales. Still…sorry for pushing you off the Workshop tower with him, if you really were that bird. And I'm grateful. He was my mark, but the world's better off without him. You did this city a kindness by killing him."

Harry shook his head even as Eileen gently helped him to his feet. "…That's not much consolation."

"I can tell. That was the first time you killed someone, isn't it?" A sudden crack of thunder overhead, and as rain began to pelt down with earnest, Eileen clicked her tongue. "Damnation. Look, we'll have to take shelter there. Well, my word…this takes me back…"

The interior of the Workshop was decrepit and dusty and dark. But as they walked in, Harry and Eileen were startled to find a familiar figure sitting by one of the doors. "Is that her?" Eileen muttered, walking over and checking the figure. "…No…must've been Gehrman's original."

Harry stared at what had to be the Doll, sitting, staring blankly ahead. "…What is she doing here?"

At this, Eileen looked at him sharply. "You knew her?"

Harry winced at his slip-up. Gehrman and the Doll had spoken highly of Eileen, true, and Harry might be able to trust her, but still, he knew he was sloppy. "Know her. I was in the Hunter's Dream until recently. I came across it by accident, so I'm not a Hunter bound to it, or even a Hunter."

"Must've been an odd accident, but I can tell you're no Hunter. Hunters usually have a look to them. How is the dirty old man, anyway?"

"Fine enough. Actually, they mentioned you a few times, Eileen."

"Ha. Glad to see I made an impression," Eileen said, removing her hat, and then her mask. Her face was dark-skinned and with a few noticeable scars marring her handsome features, her close-cropped hair greying. She set a lantern on an altar-like podium near the Doll. "By the gods, though…it's strange, like being in the Dream again. I don't remember everything of my time there, and that's a mercy, but I remember the Doll, and Gehrman. This looks just like the Doll."

Harry sat down against the opposite wall, putting his head in his hands. He had to admit, his emotions were in turmoil. He didn't realise Eileen had come up to him, knelt down, and put a gentle gloved hand on his shoulder until he felt that hand. "Hey…it's okay, lad. I know what you must be feeling, and it'd be cold comfort saying it gets easier, for killing is something that is all too easy to slip into and never climb out of. But the Bloody Crow of Cainhurst murdered many great Hunters and most of my fellow Crows, all for the sake of what he considers art." She sneered at the word, one of her scars pulling her lip into a particularly impressive one.

"…Are you okay?" he asked.

Eileen nodded. "I'm fine, thanks for asking. He didn't catch me with any real injuries yet, and I used a dose of Healing Blood, some of the better stuff from Iosefka's clinic, to patch things up." She then peered at him. "Now that I come to think about it, I don't know your name."

"…I'm Harry Potter…and I'm not from around here."

Eileen nodded thoughtfully. "I see. Still, it seems that you've seen quite a lot of horrific things. I can tell by your eyes. And too young, too. Then again, I wasn't that much older than you myself when I became a Hunter, bound to the Dream. Pray that you never have to join the Hunt, Harry. If there's a thing that is closest to literally Hell on Earth, then it is the Hunt."

Harry flinched as a crack of thunder punctuated Eileen's words, preceded by a strobe of lightning. With a click of her tongue, she began closing the doors. "Damnation. Well, we'd best hole up in here for the night. My mark is dead now, and I had no other marks to deal with, thankfully. He may be a Vileblood, but he isn't like Annalise. I doubt he could regenerate with his head in chunks. And a monster like him doesn't deserve a sky burial."

"Sky burial?"

"It's a tradition passed down from the first Crow. Hunters whom we are forced to slay, we subject to a sky burial on one of the nearby hills, let the crows eat them. Well, unless they've got surviving kin who want them to be buried or cremated or something," Eileen said with a shrug. "I'll probably burn him in the morning. You're asking quite a few questions. I mean, you're an outsider, it's to be expected, and I ain't complaining."

"I'm just curious. But…you have to kill people all the time?"

"Not all the time, thankfully. But too often," the older woman said, looking morose. "And too many friends turned foes too. It bears no honour, being a Hunter of Hunters…and it wears down at the soul, like a cliff eroded by wind, rain and sea."

Harry decided he had little answer to that. Instead, he turned his attention to the Doll, or rather, her original form, he reckoned. "…She must be lonely, in the Dream with only Gehrman for company, and he seems to hate her."

"I know. It's a crying shame. She doesn't deserve to be trapped in the Dream," Eileen remarked. "But, well, what can you do?"

"…I wish there was something," Harry said, going over and touching the Doll's hand. "Anything, to give her a chance to see the outside world."

"Even this ugly one?" Eileen asked, but Harry didn't reply. He couldn't. He had felt something latch onto his magic from within the Doll. No…not quite that. It was as if his magic was suddenly forcing itself into the Doll, rather than being absorbed into it.

Light built up, and then, a flare of light dazzled them both, followed by a feminine gasp. But not from Eileen, who was more grunting in pain from dazzled eyes. And when Harry blinked away the afterimage from the flare of light, he saw who had gasped, staring at him and Eileen in astonishment.

The Doll, the physical Doll in reality, had come to life.

CHAPTER 4 ANNOTATIONS:

So, Harry has explored some of Yharnam, and met Eileen, oh, and ganked the Bloody Crow of Cainhurst. Good riddance. But wait, how the hell did he bring the Doll in the Abandoned Workshop? Well…let's just say this isn't an arsepull, and things will be explained. Eventually.

This chapter fought me quite a bit, really. I had Harry originally end up in the clinic Iosefka ran, with Eileen appearing later. I eventually decided on Harry stumbling across her fighting the Bloody Crow while flying over Yharnam, also giving him a convenient excuse to end up at the Abandoned Workshop. Incidentally, while I made her dark-skinned as a tribute to her voice actress, Jacqueline Boatswain, I actually originally viewed her as looking like Angela Bruce (aka Brigadier Bambera from the Doctor Who story Battlefield, and Debbie Lister, David Lister's genderflipped counterpart in the Red Dwarf episode Parallel Universe…an episode where Jacqueline Boatswain actually performed as a dancer in the Tongue Tied musical number), though I've actually decided to go for Josette Simon instead, as I loved her role as Dayna from Blake's 7.

That part, actually, was inspired by an earlier attempt at this story, where raven Harry becomes a pet for Eileen for a couple of years, though the Bloody Crow toppling off the tower with Harry (he survived partly thanks to his Vileblood heritage) and getting killed by Harry was an additional elaboration. And, of course, there was the cheeky nod to Bane from The Dark Knight Rises. The Bloody Crow doesn't speak in the game, but I needed to give him a bit of personality, so I went with the whole 'Cainhurst loves gory art' thing that you get from the in-game lore.

I also liked writing Gascoigne and Henryk in happier times. I view them as being cynical about the Church, despite the former having worked for them for a time, and still valuing their family. Of course, shit will change soon…

Review-answering time! TheDragonPrince99: It's more to foreshadow Maria's appearance later in the fic.

KuroiScarlett: I'm not sure where the meme comes from, I just read about it on TV Tropes. Given that it apparently has to do with the Hunter's Axe, I find it resonates with me, as that was my main weapon on my first playthrough.

DALucifer13: I was told about Racke's work. It took me a while to find it, but sadly, it didn't grab me.

waytodawn0: Well, if you want recommendations for other fics, read the list at the end of the previous chapter.

WhiteElfElder: He's not that fit. Between Azkaban and being Micolash's test subject for a couple of years, Harry's not much for physical strength. Once he becomes the Good Hunter, he can use Blood Echoes to make up for that.

zanzara: He'll be using a Threaded Cane for his primary Trick Weapon, though that may change as the Hunt progresses. And just wait and see to see whether any elements of Magical Britain get involved…

JDS32: …Yikes. I really hope that's not the case…

No numbered annotations this time.