Chapter Twenty-Seven: Doubt Comes In
I used to see the way the world could be. But now the way it is is all I see.
I couldn't help them. I couldn't guide them.
After spending years as a ghost, silent, forgotten, alone—I had finally found my power—but now I had to give it all back up. I could do nothing but watch. Unseen. Unheard.
Sirius and Remus stepped out of the Underworld and into the unknown.
Sirius, brave and wary, in front.
Remus, silent, behind.
They had walk of their lives ahead of them.
And I could only watch.
Sirius led the way, guided by stark wand light. The tunnels were bare—silent. Not even an echo kept him company. The walls curved slightly inward—dark, dank water dripping down the sides. Stale air. A reek of heavy magic and loss. The night swallowed what little light they had—and Sirius could only see a few feet ahead of him at a time.
They walked in silence for a long time—with only his footsteps breaking the crushing quiet. And slowly, the question grew in Sirius's mind—unfurling like a tendril of poison in water.
If Remus was truly there, wouldn't he be able to hear him?
No. Sirius shook his head to clear it. He remembered what I told him right before leaving. Doubt is deadly Don't let it in.
He walked on.
I wish I could have told him how proud I was of him. I wish I could have shown him the lives he had changed. Not just Remus's, but the pack's too—and the thousands of humans who no longer had to fear Greyback's retribution.
Behind him, Remus's eyes glowed with love. He moved as silent as a ghost—but he was there—brimming with his hope and pride in his beloved. Couldn't Sirius feel it? I could hear Remus's devotion in his heartbeat, in his steady pulse, sure and free.
Sirius, I am here. I will be here until the very end.
Whether Sirius could feel it or not, I didn't know. He was cast in shadow, face hard with determination.
They walked on.
I floated in the walls near them—never making myself visible—never letting myself be seen. But I had to know—I had to see. I prayed silently for Sirius to make it.
And they walked on.
Doubt is deadly. Don't let it in.
And then—in the corner of my eye—I saw something. I barely withheld a gasp. Sirius stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the apparitions before him.
The Fated Ones—sharp and terrible. They were different now—ghostlike and transparent, a mere shadow of their former selves. Their faces were different too—not echoing Ylva's likeness—but someone else. Someone scarred with endless eyes and a melancholy smile.
"Remus," Sirius breathed.
And then I saw it. They wore Remus's face.
Of course they did.
Just as Greyback had created the Fated Ones out of his grief and desire to protect Ylva—here they were projected Sirius's darkest phantoms—his greatest fear.
Sirius froze in his tracks. Remus only barely missed bumping into him—muffling his own gasp. He couldn't let Sirius hear him. He couldn't break the charm.
And as the Fated Ones closed in, Remus drew back, hidden deeper in the shadows.
"You're not real," Sirius said—but even I could hear his voice was shaking. "You have no power over me."
"We don't?" the Fated Ones asked. It was horrible to hear their voices come out of Remus's mouth, their cruelty distort his kindness.
"What are you doing here all alone?" asked the Small One.
"I'm not alone."
"You're not? News to us."
"I'm not," Sirius said again, louder this time, but the Fated Ones only laughed.
"Who do you think you are, Sirius Black?" asked the Broad One. "Why would anyone follow you anywhere?"
"Why would Remus Lupin trust you?"
"He trusts me," Sirius said, his jaw set, his eyes wide and fearful. "He said so."
"People lie."
"Not Remus." Sirius stepped forward, brandishing his wand at them. "Remus wouldn't lie to me."
Reader, I don't know how the Fated Ones found him.
I don't know how they still survived. I had hoped that Greyback's faith and love would drive them away for good—I had hoped they would die along with his fear. They were, after all, his creations.
But our beliefs and deeds have lives beyond ourselves. Sirius is proof of that. He came to the Underworld on the wings of love, with nothing but a desperate hope in his pocket. And with that—and that alone—he changed the world.
Greyback's fear had changed the world too. It's not so easy to undo our mistakes. It's often not possible at all.
The Fated Ones had found a life of their own, feeding in the belly of the Underworld, whispering dark secrets into people's ears. As long as anyone harbored their shame, locked it in a case like a jewel and let it fester, the Fates Ones had a tether to this world.
Sirius had begun to doubt.
And his doubt had called the Fated Ones to him.
His doubt made them his monsters.
Don't let it in. Doubt is deadly.
But it was too late. It had already taken root and a sapling was sprouting at his feet.
He had to outpace it. Stomp it down as much as he could—and then rush to get back home—rush to complete his trial—rush to free himself and Remus and earn them their life together. If he was fast, if he was daring, if he was brave—maybe he could do it.
"I don't believe you," Sirius told the Fated Ones, speaking loudly. His voice echoed down the tunnels—and it was almost like having a family there. It was almost like having Remus. "You are ghosts made of darkness. You were created by a terrified man—and all you do is spread that terror. You never tell the truth."
And with that, Sirius pushed past them, trundling deep into the shadows.
The Fated Ones did not follow. They knew they didn't have to. And when Remus passed, just moments later—Sirius's silent shadow—they gave him a nasty, ominous smile.
Sirius plunged forward. He wouldn't doubt. He wouldn't fear.
Don't let it in. Doubt is deadly.
Greyback had changed, Sirius told himself as he walked on. The tunnel became an incline—and he started climbing, steadily. Greyback had been moved—he had been freed from the trauma and the rage he'd been clutching. He loved Ylva. He had wanted to do the right thing. When he set the charm, he did it in good faith. He had let them go. In his own way, he had tried to let them go.
But… said a deadly voice in Sirius's mind. If the king had wanted to do the right thing, why hold a trial at all? Why go through the trouble of casting a spell, of making them walk, of not letting him turn around.
Why not just let them go?
Sirius panted as the climb became steeper. He only heard his own breath in the darkness—and a heightened awareness creaked over him. His hair stood on edge, and he could hear every footfall, every blinking eyelash. If Remus was really there, wouldn't he be able to hear him too?
What if Greyback was tricking him?
The thought was almost too much to bear—and Sirius found himself wracked with fear—afraid in a way that he—reckless, brave—had never once experienced. What if this was all a ploy to get Sirius out of the way—and Remus was still down there, helpless and alone?
Sirius was a dreamer. He fought for a better world—had sacrificed everything to build a future. He'd never had trouble believing in hope—he'd never had trouble looking on the bright side.
But now, he could only see darkness.
What if Remus wasn't there? What if he'd been tricked? What if he got all the way back up to the world above and found out he was alone?
No. Sirius pushed forward. He had to keep walking. He had to keep faith. The doubt grew steady, a tree heavy with poisonous apples. At this stage, all he could do was outrun it.
He would not turn around. He would not lose faith. He would keep walking.
And they were close now—the air was fresher—the crushing darkness turning a steel grey as light from above crept in.
Remus followed—silent, faithful. He trusted Sirius. He knew he could do it. Remus beamed his heart forward, hoping Sirius could feel it. Feel his unwavering faith and love. Hear the prayer of his pulse.
Sirius, I am here.
The light was changing. Just a few meters separated them from the world above—from their freedom—from their long lives together. Sunlight danced at the entrance of the tunnel and Remus longed to feel it on his skin.
They were so close. They were going to make it.
Sirius, I am here. I have been here all along. You are not alone.
Only a few feet now.
Remus's heart was burning with hope—burning with pride. They would be free. They would have a life together, grow old together.
Sirius took one more step. They were a breath from freedom—so close Remus could taste it—so near the hope crackled like magic and love through the air.
And then—
And then—
And then—
Sirius turned around.
Silence.
Despair.
Our lives can change in a moment. Suns blinked out. Planets lost. All of the stars in all the galaxy going dark, one by one.
Remus and Sirius stared at each other for a long moment, shock on both their faces—grief rising up in them like a tide.
The charm had broken.
There was nothing either of them could do.
"It's you," Sirius finally said, his voice shattered. His heart bled freely on his sleeve. His eyes swam in regret.
How could he have doubted? How could he not have known that Remus would be there—that he would always, always be there?
Remus could hardly speak. Sorrow choked him. The Underworld's despair rushed back to him at once, dark and poisonous, crushing monotony. This was the end of his road. He would never make it back above. He would never have his long life with Sirius.
"It's me," Remus finally said. Tears fell freely, grief pouring out of him.
They would not get their life together. They would not grow old together. All those bitter coffees—those speckled sunsets—the Friday nights at the pub, laughing and slapping their thighs—the bite firewhiskey and bubbling champagne—their cozy little bedroom—the morning light in Orpheus Coffee—the family they'd built—all lost.
Sirius had turned around—he had broken the charm.
This was the end of their love story. A shared, shattered glance. Regret, a river flooding between them. It was too late to forge it. It was too late to make amends.
They would never see each other again.
"Sirius," Remus said.
Sirius wept—regret—grief—bitter rage. But mostly love. A hollow and broken love. A desperate and empty love.
He and Remus were made for each other—the great loves of each other's lives—they were soulmates—and they would never see each other again.
"Remus…"
And then, from the darkness, came the Fated Ones—in all their horror. They emerged silently—terribly—and dragged Remus away, all the way down to the Underworld.
And these two boys—hopeful, desperately in love, fighting against all odds—would never see each other again.