Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Although I had the idea first, really! I had the entire plot and story mapped out, but then one day J.K. Rowling sent a ninja into my house and took it! I tried to fight back, but the ninja came out of nowhere and tied me up before I could do anything. Tears filling my eyes, I stood in the corner and watched silently as Rowling clutched my life's work, my Barry Potter manuscript, in her hands, an unquestionably evil laugh filling the room as she crossed out the 'B' and wrote an 'H' in its place. Lightning crashed outside my windows even though the sky was cloudless...
Oh. Sorry. Looks like I got sidetracked there. Anyway, Harry Potter belongs to J. K. "Dancing Lotus" Rowling, thanks to her threats to my loved ones if I ever sued.
A/N – Well, if you're still reading after that disclaimer, I applaud you. So...just enjoy the chapter. I won't torment you any longer.
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Unto Dust Shalt Thou Return
Chapter One – Sunrise over Oxford
William Parry groaned, shifting sideways into his wife, Nicole. His head felt like a lead weight, and his brain struggled to process the scene in front of him.
Wearily, he opened his eyes. The morning sun shined with a blinding red light, pouring into Will's bedroom and casting shadows across Nicole's sleeping form before shooting directly into his eyes. He shaded his face with an arm and sat up slowly, savoring every second his head rested on the pillow before it left, leaving him sitting up and exhausted.
He stared out at the rising sun. It was blood red and much brighter than usual, and seemed to have grown larger—but that was only Will's imagination. Shaking his head to clear it of any lingering dream-thoughts, he got up—slowly, so he wouldn't wake Nicole—and let his feet fall to the floor gently, stretching and yawning. It was much too early to be up—the bedside clock read only 8:30 in the morning. But for some reason Will pulled on a long-sleeve shirt and pair of jeans anyway and made his way to the kitchen, hoping for a fresh cup of coffee to further clear his mind.
Kirjava, who had been sleeping at the end of Will's bed, invisible to his wife, stretched and followed him, her soft paws making no noise on the thick carpet. Once they were out of earshot of Nicole, she spoke.
"Morning, Will," said his daemon tiredly, yawning.
"Morning, Kirjava," said Will. "Bloody Mondays, huh?"
Kirjava nodded wearily, her head moving up and down in a very uncatlike behavior. "Why are you up so early?" she asked, although she already knew, and Will simply stared at her. "You felt it too, right?" she said finally. "That something's not right?"
"Yeah," said Will. "I don't remember ever feeling this apprehensive before. It's like something's wrong with—with Dust, or something like that."
Kirjava spoke quietly. "Will, what if it is? What if we have to leave Nicole and go on another adventure? It's been twenty years...and we'd see Lyra again..."
"No," said Will. "No. I can't stand to see her again. Once a year, on Midsummer's Day, and that's it. It's too painful—I could never stay with Nicole if I knew there was any chance of seeing her again. She'll be waiting for me in the land of the dead—that's it. I've been building the Republic of Heaven, dammit!"
"Calm down, Will," said Kirjava slowly. "It's just a feeling, remember? It's probably nothing."
Slightly shaken, Will nodded and went over to a container in the kitchen to pour the instant coffee mix into the coffee maker. When the smell had permeated the entire house, he sat down lazily at the kitchen table and began to see sense.
"You're right, Kirjava. It's just a feeling. It's just—it was like—I haven't felt this way since losing you when me and Lyra went into the world of the dead. I thought it was over, you know? And now there's a chance that I might have to leave Nicole behind...leave the life I built here..."
"You won't," said Kirjava, ever the voice of reason. "Now wait a few more minutes, and enjoy some coffee. You've got a tedious day of work ahead of you, and don't forget that you're still working off a hangover."
"It's not a hangover," said Will stubbornly. "I only had two drinks last night—"
But Will trailed off as he felt Kirjava tense. "What—" he started to ask, but stopped as she arched her back and hissed—something was definitely wrong, and it didn't take an expert on cats to figure that out.
Will stood up and backed away from the air that Kirjava was spitting at warily, trying to put as much distance as possible between him and any possible threat. And then he caught it—a tiny shimmer in the air, nothing more, but enough for one who had been to other worlds, like Will, to be certain that someone was in his house.
And then the figure stepped into a half-shadow, and Will could briefly make out the outline of none other than Xaphania. Kirjava relaxed slowly, although Will could tell she still felt on edge.
"Will," said Xaphania softly.
"Xaphania!" said Will in as loud a voice as he could manage without waking Nicole. "What are you doing here? I haven't seen you since—"
"I know," said the angel briefly. And then Will really saw her for the first time—she looked slightly more defined, slightly stronger and wiser, than she had been before. But something was visibly troubling her.
"What's wrong, Xaphania?" said Will with a shiver of foreboding.
He and Kirjava watched the slight shimmer in the air with rapt attention as Xaphania, for the first time that Will could ever remember, seemed to lose her composure slightly.
"Will—you deserve much better than you've gotten. I'm so sorry to make you—"
She trailed off. Will and Kirjava exchanged a silent look, although much was communicated between them. Kirjava's earlier hunch had been right—something was wrong. They would have to leave Nicole behind, go on another adventure.
"What?" asked Will carefully, keeping his voice genial but guarded.
"Will—you've been doing great ever since you and Lyra parted. Much better than I would have thought. You continue to help in the building of the Republic of Heaven with your work in the area of dark matter, educating others with the same knowledge that I have imparted to you. And of course, the love that you and Nicole have for each other is clearly defined, even in the very Dust clouds that surround you. I am amazed that your relationship has gone so well."
"Why?" asked Will, feeling almost violated at Xaphania's lack of confidence in him. "She's my wife. I love her. That's enough."
"It is," said Xaphania, sounding slightly confused, although Will could not tell for the life of him why.
"What have you come here for, Xaphania?" asked Will finally, dropping all formalities.
"I—" Her voice was unsteady, and for the second time in his life Will had it impressed upon him the fragility of the angels, and their true desire of having flesh and bones like a human—Xaphania's begging voice was entirely inhuman in its weakness—humans had built defenses within themselves much too strong to display such emotion.
"I've come to ask a favor," said Xaphania finally. "Something terrible has happened. The balance of Dust throughout the worlds has been disrupted, throwing the worlds out of equilibrium. Some—something has traveled between worlds that shouldn't have. There is now an open window, although we don't know the location for sure. You see, there is a world much like ours that has developed the ability to do things that the people of your world would only call 'magic'. Things like levitating objects, starting fires or shooting fire from wands, even such horrible things as killing and mind control."
Will's eyes widened at this—he had not thought about the sheer volume of other worlds beyond his. There must be a world for every single choice—that was what Lyra had told him. If you flipped a coin, and it landed heads, in one world it landed tails and a split was created. Every single choice, every single event that had more than one possibility since the beginning of time had created a world. There must be a world where another Will had gone to the world of another Lyra, or a world where there was a loophole allowing them to be together. There were an infinite amount of worlds, his father had told him, and Dust was the only thing connecting them all; Dust was human sentience itself. And that made the situation Xaphania had described all the more dangerous.
"One of these people, a wizard, as they are called, has turned to what the inhabitants of that other world call dark magic. He uses spells to torture and kill people, and coerce them into doing what he wants. And what he wants is elimination of all non-magic people—oh yes, there are others like you in their world, who have no magic, who live in ignorance of the magical world, and this man—his given name is Tom Riddle, but he goes by Voldemort—he thinks they are inferior, and that everyone with an ounce of non-magical blood in their veins deserves to be killed, and only what he deems 'purebloods' should rule the world."
Will took in a sharp gasp of air. The poor people of that world must be living in terror and subservience, a horrible life unlike anything that Will had gone through in his own world. He continued to stare at the faded form of Xaphania, thinking that he had an idea of where this conversation was going.
"Voldemort has found a way to travel between worlds using magic. He has created a window between his world and another, although we are not sure of which one, and has apparently taken another wizard, a mere boy, along with him. Will, if this man continues to make windows, it will be the disaster of the Subtle Knife all over again, and all creatures of Dust—angels, daemons—will die. Humans and sentient creatures in all worlds will become mere robots. In other words, he must be stopped."
Will looked deep into the eyes of Xaphania. She was much different from the Xaphania he remembered—she spoke to him as an equal, and with true respect in her voice. She was telling him the most important information in any universe, and if he was right, she was about to ask for his help.
And Will knew this, and yet he felt something inside him yearning for the adventure.
"Is there any way to stop him?" he asked finally. "Is there a way to kill him, or at least disable him? Or is his magic too powerful—"
"We do not know," said Xaphania solemnly, and behind him Kirjava shivered. "We know that he has been killed at least once, and yet he has somehow managed to return. As far as we can tell, he is the closest thing to immortal that any human has ever achieved."
"And so, William Parry, I am afraid I must ask for your help once again. I have already caused you to do the most painful thing in your entire life, and now I must ask you once again to leave one you love, and for this I am truly sorry."
"Why me?" asked Will. "Don't tell me that I'm destined to do it or anything, because I know that me and—me and Lyra destroyed Fate. For all we know, this Voldemort could be killed tomorrow in an accident and all of our worries could be unfounded."
"He could," said Xaphania, and Will noticed her air of knowledge and superiority returning, "but it is incredibly, incredibly unlikely. Why you, William? Simply because you know what is at stake, having already done it once before. You are in possession of the Subtle Knife of Cittagazze, and you are its rightful bearer. Do you know how an alethiometer works, William?" asked Xaphania suddenly, and Will blanched briefly at the sudden change of subject.
"Uh—no," said Will finally, and Xaphania nodded as if that was what she expected.
"It is Dust," said Xaphania, and Will understood almost immediately—it was as if he had known it all along. "Dust—or angels. Sraf. Dark matter. Watchers. Bene elim. Whatever different names we go by, we are all one. And I can see, William Parry, just as clearly as I can see you standing in front of me, that you and the knife will have a role to play in the upcoming struggle. Things are not as clear as they were before, because you and Lyra abolished Fate, but we still retain slight powers of divination."
Will nodded—finally, his gut feeling had been confirmed. She was asking him and Kirjava to travel, away from Nicole and the love that he had known for fifteen years, away from his job researching Dark Matter and his work in building the Republic of Heaven, and save the world from the very thing that he and Lyra had saved it from twenty years ago.
"Have you talked to Lyra?" asked Will after a brief pause, his heart clenching and unclenching rapidly.
"No," said Xaphania. "While she is extremely resourceful, she does not possess the power to use the Subtle Knife as you do."
"The knife is broken," said Will suddenly. "How can I use it if it's broken? How can I open windows, or even cut this Voldemort, if I need to, with a broken knife?"
"I do not know the answer to that," said Xaphania. "However, I do know that if you do not, the consequences shall be dire, although I cannot even see the consequences."
Will sighed. How could he be expected to leave the world he had known for the past twenty years to help the angels once again? Had he not done enough already for them? What right did they have to ask him for yet another favor?
And then Kirjava's voice filled his mind. Will, you know, she said simply. You know you must do this. Do you want everything you and Lyra worked for to go to waste all because of one insane wizard from another world?
Will turned his glance away from his daemon and to the shimmering face of the angel that had made him part from the first girl he had ever loved, his soul mate, so long ago. Though much of his memory of his childhood had faded, he remembered as though it were yesterday the mischievous glint in Lyra's eyes as she raised the fruit to his lips, and their first kiss in the world of the mulefa, and the way her hands felt against Kirjava's fur as they lay under one of the trees and professed their love for one another. And then there was Nicole, who Will knew he was in love with as sure as he was that Kirjava was lying by his side at that moment. He remembered their first date, a rushed affair set up by one of Will's school friends. He remembered their first kiss, a simple yet meaningful gesture in the flat that Will had been living in then that caused him to realize for the first time some of the extent of his feelings for Nicole.
And he knew that if this Voldemort succeeded, both of them would suffer. They would both lose what he and Lyra had worked so hard for. And there was no way he would let that happen.
Xaphania looked away from Will's piercing gaze, but he got up and moved into her line of sight, straightened his shoulders, and bent to pet his daemon in a sudden gesture as she joined him by his side.
"I'll do it," said Will, with all the conviction he could muster.
"Excellent," said Xaphania, deepest respect filling her ethereal eyes. "Will—I don't know how to thank you for this. You are doing the worlds a great favor."
Will nodded at the angel, the adrenaline rushing through his veins at the prospect of an adventure. "I'll get the Knife shards," said Will, mustering the strength to examine the Subtle Knife again for the first time in ten years. Xaphania nodded.
"I will remain here until you return," she said quietly as Will disappeared into his room, where his wife still slept unknowingly.
Will made his way to the closet where the knife was kept, walking as quietly as possible. Slowly, so as not to make any noise, he removed the shoebox where the Knife shards were kept, perfectly arranged within the sheath that Will had worn for the first time when he was only twelve years old.
His breath caught in his chest as he opened the box, revealing the sheath within. Memories shot unbidden through his head—Lyra holding out a piece of fruit to him, her eyes begging him to take it...her hands on Kirjava as she assumed the form that she would be forever afterwards...
But Will wrenched his mind away from that topic painfully—he wouldn't let himself be distracted. He removed the sheath and turned around, only to find himself face to face with something that he never thought he would see again in his life.
A Specter.
He shouted a warning to his wife, but she didn't move. Horrible realization spread through his consciousness—he stepped backwards, but there was nowhere to run—
"Who are you?" Will shouted, voice shaking, at the empty air, knowing that the Specter had certainly not randomly found its way into his house. "What do you want?"
The Specter stopped in its advance, and a figure seemed to shimmer into existence in front of him. A pang of fear swept through Will's body at the man who stood before him—he had an extremely snakelike appearance, and his red eyes seemed to see through to his very soul, oddly like the Metatron's in that respect.
"Very good, William Parry," said the—man? Thing? What was he? "But I am afraid you will not have much time to revel in your knowledge."
"W—why do you want me?" asked Will, refusing to let himself be intimidated. "You can't use the knife—only the bearer can!" Will smiled at the last trick that he would be able to pull on his intruder—the man had all of his fingers, and therefore would not be able to work the knife even if he managed to repair it.
"Why in the world would I want your knife?" asked the man, and Will felt his heart sink. "I have no use for it. No, my friend, I am here simply because you know too much. And now...now you must be disposed of. Avada Kedavra!"
And William Parry's last thought before the beam of green light struck him was that he hoped the world of the dead would be a much happier place.
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A/N – Well? That's about how long most of the chapters are going to be from now on, so please review and tell me if you liked or disliked it and why! I'll read every review!