With this chapter, The Cauldron has broken the 200K words mark!

Anyway, this second chapter actually had to be revised somewhat, as did the third chapter. I didn't think Vincent/Harry and Sawyer would have reacted as well to the truth coming out as it did, and while they're not exactly at each other's throats in the revised chapters, there's a more realistic tension that needs to be resolved, resolved by everyone's favourite Taiwanese assassin. Don't worry, it's not all doom and gloom. We have some fun at Revy's expense in this chapter, and the third chapter has Leigharch. 'Nuff said. Of course, whether the story goes further than that is another matter...

QUOTH THE RAVEN...

CHAPTER 2:

METAMORPHOSIS

Over the next couple of weeks, Vincent became a fixture in Sawyer's place of work. She half-expected the raven to eat parts from the bodies she worked on, but he seemed to have a distaste for human flesh. That was odd, but far from the oddest thing about him.

After all, when she revved up her chainsaw for the first time, he didn't try to fly off. In fact, he cringed, and placed his wings to his head in a cartoon-like gesture akin to a human covering their ears from the noise. She didn't even think ravens could do that. And yet, Vincent did. And when he did crap, he did it either over drains, or while perched on the toilet. It made her wonder whether Vincent was once a domesticated raven. Maybe a pet that one of Roanapur's crime bosses imported, but had mistreated. Or maybe his owner had died, and Vincent had no skills to survive in the wild, even in urban areas. He did sometimes fly off through an open window in her apartment for a couple of hours, presumably to exercise his wings, but always returned.

Vincent helped add to her reputation, to her legend, which was part of the reason she had adopted him. Although at times, it felt like the other way around. But ravens' association with being heralds of death helped lend an edge to her mystique as one of the most feared cleaners of Roanapur. Vincent seemed to understand this. Some of her more nervous clients (of those that brought the bodies, living or dead) had been spooked thoroughly when Vincent chose to caw at just the right moment. He even got someone once to piss themselves, which was funny.

Of course, Shenhua was due to come today. She had been dealing with another job on behalf of Mr Chang, the leader of the local Triads, so she hadn't been able to come and see. Of those Sawyer associated with, Shenhua was the closest to being called a friend. The Taiwanese assassin, despite her profession and broken English, had a cheerful and friendly nature to those she liked. When she wasn't on the job and didn't feel insulted, she was pretty likeable.

Though whether she would like the new addition to Sawyer's household, such as it was, was another matter…

Vincent watched as the door to Sawyer's…workplace opened. He had already made his peace with the fact that Sawyer was a cleaner, one who dealt with the deceased, or the soon-to-be. In that far-off murky dream of life he once had as Harry Potter, he may have objected to it. After all, there was something about her that reminded him of a woman by the name of Bellatrix. But Harry Potter had died in the dreams of a raven. No, he had died earlier than that, when the people he had saved had turned on him, and locked him up in Azkaban when the Horcrux in his head was learned about. Not to mention those Death Eaters he had killed during the final battle.

No, he was fine with her. She had shown him friendship on a whim, adopted him. Broken called to broken, and while he could not make contact with his old friends ever again, he could make new ones. Well, as much as he could as a raven.

Through the door, an extraordinary figure came through, dragging a massive suitcase. It was a tall Asian woman in a Chinese qipao dress, with a short white jacket over it. She was surprisingly buxom for an Asian, and the dress was slit right up to her hips, showing off an impressive amount of leg. Her long dark hair fell across half of her face, which was elegantly made-up. She seemed like one of the more expensive prostitutes one would probably find in Roanapur, save for the fact that she had a band on her leg with holsters for small throwing knives. That, and her deceptively friendly demeanour masked the manner of what Vincent knew to be a predator.

"Hi, Sawyer! I early this time! You okay with that?" she asked in broken English. Sawyer, decked out in scrubs, nodded in acknowledgement. "This moron snitch for Italians. Chang say make mince out of him for spaghetti bolognaise." As she let the suitcase drop on its side to the floor, Shenhua noticed Vincent, and peered at him. "Huh? You have pet bird? Crow? Raven? He have name?"

Sawyer nodded, and then went to a nearby blackboard which she used to communicate with her clients, as her electrolarynx could possibly be clogged up with mess when she did her work. His name is Vincent, Sawyer wrote.

"Ah, Vincent?" Shenhua asked, before strutting over to Vincent. "Hi, Vincent! I'm Shenhua! You beautiful bird. Beautiful eyes. You look after Sawyer, yes?"

Vincent nodded his head, and Shenhua smiled. "You smart bird. Okay, Sawyer, I leave moron with you and Vincent. Enjoy!" And with that, the Asian woman strutted out, waving a friendly goodbye, leaving a helpless man to Sawyer's ministrations…

In the evening, after dealing with the detritus, Sawyer was sitting at a table, reading, while gently stroking Vincent on his head, Arthur Brown's Fire playing in the background. After a moment's thought, she began speaking, not with her electrolarynx, but just whispering quietly, using only the breath in her lungs and her tongue and lips to shape the words. She did this to Vincent, and he seemed to understand.

"Shenhua was right. You're a beautiful bird, Vincent," she whispered. "I wonder, what brought you to me?" She looked into his emerald eyes. She could not deny the intelligence in them. "I would call it divine providence, but…I don't believe in God. Few in this town do. If God exists, then they are apathetic at best, and a capricious and malicious deity who enjoys suffering at worst. I prayed to God to save me from my father many times…but they did nothing. I don't believe in karma, either, just consequences. That man earlier…he fed information from the Triads to the Italians. The Italians are supposedly itching to get to the top of the pile here, wrest it from the Triads and the Russian mafiya."

Vincent emitted a noise that could have been a disdainful scoff. Sawyer echoed it. "Yeah, I know the feeling. Balalaika is ambitious, true, but like Chang, she prefers stability for the most part. But Verrocchio…he just wants to be top dog. I wonder…are you an omen, Vincent? I heard in Celtic tradition that crows and ravens are heralds of war deities like Badb and the Morrigan. I hope not. I like having you around."

Vincent seemed to roll his eyes, and Sawyer smiled. "Yes, I know, stupid feeling." After a moment, she came to a decision. "I'm going out for a drink at the Yellow Flag. I'd ask if you'd want to come, but…well, I don't think that'd be a good idea. They make birds target practise here."

Vincent seemed a little morose at her decision, but seemed to understand. So, Sawyer closed her book, and went to have a shower and dress herself for a night on the town…

Vincent couldn't help but have a bad feeling about tonight. He knew Sawyer could handle herself very well on the streets of Roanapur, even without her scrubs. But he had this odd premonition about tonight. So, after she left, he made for the nearest open window (it was high up to deter any would-be burglars) and flew out, wending his way through the Roanapur twilight towards the Yellow Flag.

Through Sawyer talking to him, Vincent had learned a few things about Roanapur, including the chequered history of one of its most popular bars. The Yellow Flag had been established by an ex-soldier from South Vietnam, Bao, and soon became the favoured watering hole of many a malcontent. Fights using fists and guns were frequent, and Bao was said to wield a shotgun to deter most.

Many recent gunfights had been started by a woman of considerable local renown known as 'Revy Two-Hands'. She was a Chinese-American woman who was known around Roanapur as the hired gun of Dutch, the boss of the Lagoon Company. The Lagoon Company were a small group of mercenaries whose only other member was a hacker by the name of Benny. They generally did courier jobs, smuggling illicit items for the various criminals in Roanapur. Drugs, weapons, they even engaged in piracy on occasion. Lately, they had been accepting more jobs from Balalaika, the leader of the local Russian mafiya, known locally as 'Hotel Moscow', especially after being stiffed by one of the minor crime bosses, Chen.

Anyway, Revy was known for a hair-trigger temper and an itchy trigger finger. She had been trained in gunplay by Mr Chang, the most frequent customer of Sawyer's services, but was independent of the Triads. She was ridiculously skilled with using a pair of handguns, one in each hand, hence her cognomen of 'Two-Hands'.

Revy, he was sure, was one of those who had taken a potshot at him when he first arrived in Roanapur. He remembered a sexy-looking part-Chinese woman wearing a tank top and daisy dukes, an elaborate tattoo on one of her shoulders, her dark hair tied up in a ponytail. In revenge for shooting at him, he had dumped his shit in her eyes, and had been amused at the plethora of curses she emitted.

As he settled on a palm tree near the entrance to the Yellow Flag, he saw Sawyer walking in. However, he saw a quartet of people walking up. The first was a burly black man wearing sunglasses. The only hair on his head were his eyebrows and a beard. The second was the very woman he had shit upon. The third was a blonde-haired man with an unshaven face and glasses. The fourth looked Asian, and oddly enough, had a rumpled suit on, sans jacket. White shirt, dark trousers and a tie. He also looked afraid and out of his depth, a young businessman who was now amongst the scum of the Earth.

"…Might as well have a drink while we wait for Balalaika to call," the black man said in a bass rumble. "Don't start any problems, Revy."

"Yeah, yeah, Dutch, I'll be cool." The young woman's English held a strong Brooklyn accent.

So it was Revy who had shot at him, which meant that these four, or at least three of them, were the Lagoon Company. The Japanese was out of place, so he had to wonder why he was here. Still, he couldn't resist another bit of retaliation against Revy, so, with a caw, Vincent swooped out of the darkened skies and shat on Revy's hair.

"GAH! Motherfucking crow! That's the second time one's shit on me!" Revy snarled. "I'll bet it's the same feathered bastard who shit in my eyes! Feathered freak's stalking me!"

"Calm down, Revy. Next time, in future, don't take potshots at animals who aren't attacking you," Dutch said.

"Fuck you, Dutch, how else am I gonna keep my eye in? I've got a new policy: any goddamned crow I see, I'll shoot pre-emptively! They're evil fuckers!"

From his new perch in another tree, Vincent deliberately cawed in a way that sounded like laughter. Revy snarled, "There, you hear that? The black-feathered fucker is laughing at me! You hear me, you evil little shit? You'll be laughing through the new asshole I shoot through you when I see you again!"

The Lagoon Company walked in, Revy wiping the bird shit from her hair as she did so. Vincent waited for a while. He hoped that his premonition was purely paranoia.

But then, about ten minutes later, a group of what looked like soldiers in camouflage moved up, led by a blonde man with sunglasses and a scar that snaked its way up his cheek. He had a bloodthirsty grin on his face. Mercenaries, Vincent thought with a chill. After lighting up a cigarette with a Zippo lighter, the man took a couple of grenades, and then roared, into the bar, "It's time to get this party started! Here's a present for you shitbags!"

Vincent was too late to stop the man from hurling the grenades into the Yellow Flag, paralysed by horror though he was. But the ensuing explosion, and what it could have done to Sawyer, spurred him into action.

He had sat by while someone he liked died. He remembered the face of his godfather, of a werewolf and a shapeshifter, of so many who had perished. It was what had killed the man…no, it wasn't. It was what killed the boy.

The man had slept within the raven. Vincent had thought that the man had died in his sleep, but the sleeper was awakening. He didn't care about the others in here, but Sawyer, if she hadn't been killed by the initial grenade attack, needed him.

So he swooped down behind the soldiers, who were more busy about threats from the front. Well, victims, really. They didn't see the raven shed his feathers and become the Master of Death once more…

Sawyer cursed silently as she dove behind the bar, chainsaw at the ready. Nearby, Revy 'Two-Hands' (who had come in wiping bird shit off her hair, complaining about vindictive crows) and the Japanese whom she had been having a drinking contest with dived for cover as well behind the bar, while Bao reached for his shotgun and returned fire against the soldiers. "Dammit, Revy, what the hell are your friends doing shooting up my bar?!" Bao snarled.

"Not my friends, Bao, never seen them before," Revy said. She then looked at Sawyer. "Hey, spooky, are you any good with that thing?"

Sawyer reached for her electrolarynx, and pressed it to her throat. "I can manage," she buzzed.

As Dutch called out to Revy and Benny, Sawyer considered the situation. Could she make her way out? She might need to team up with the Lagoon Company, at least to get out of the bar alive. After that, she would make her own way back home. She could use the chainsaw to deflect bullets, true, but grenades were another matter, and they'd only need to get a lucky shot to hit her, or flank her.

It soon became a moot point when they suddenly heard what sounded like something bursting into flames. And judging by the sound of screams accompanying said flames, what was burning might be people. Sawyer poked her head above the bar to find those mercenaries looking behind them as three of their number burned.

"Hey, who the fuck are you?" snarled their leader as a ragged figure walked through the doors.

He was a scarecrow of a man, thin and scrawny, clad in rags that barely qualified as clothing. His hair was a tangled black mess reaching his shoulders. In fact, some of his hair looked like black feathers. He had glasses askew on his stubble-marred face, behind which emerald eyes burned with fury and insanity held barely in check. And half-hidden by his fringe was a faded scar, not unlike a lightning bolt. And in both of his hands burned a fire that looked diabolical, like it didn't belong on Earth.

And when he spoke, it was little more than a loud rasp, a parody of a voice long-disused, like the croak of a carrion bird with an English accent, but it managed to carry across the room.

"I am the god of hellfire!" he snarled. "And I bring you…FIRE!" With that, he flung the fireballs at the mercenaries, unleashing a wave of diabolical fire that consumed them, their screams shut off in seconds, before the flames died down, leaving little behind but ashes.

Sawyer stared. Emerald eyes…a scar that matched that weird colouration…quoting the opening of the very song she had been listening to shortly before coming here. And the fact that his hair seemed to be partly comprised of black, glossy feathers.

Their eyes met, and something flashed in his own. He knew he had been recognised by her. He fled into the darkness outside. Sawyer got up and dashed outside, only to hear nothing, save for a possibly-imagined sound of wings. She didn't know whether to be angry or astonished or grateful.

When she got back home soon afterwards, she half-expected to see him there. Instead, she got a note confirming what she suspected.

Sawyer,

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to deceive you. Thank you for everything you did for me. I hope you find someone to be your friend, someone better than me.

Vincent.

CHAPTER 2 ANNOTATIONS:

So, Harry has revealed himself to Sawyer while saving her arse, and Revy has gotten shat on. Let's face it, Revy's a cool character, but she's also a bitch with a hair-trigger temper who causes more problems than she has to. I don't hate her, but she's not going to have a good relationship with Harry in this story. And Rock will still have his badass moment: Extra Order still sends the chopper at them when they go to bring the disc to Balalaika.

Now, unlike Disquiet, Sawyer is NOT going to be Bellatrix's lovechild or indeed related to anyone in Magical Britain. Doesn't mean there aren't other people with connections to the wizarding world in Roanapur…

Incidentally, the lyrics come from Arthur Brown's Fire. I don't own them, obviously.

No numbered annotations this time.