Chapter 280 — Non-Existence
What kind of wizard was Albus Dumbledore, truly?
Before Dudley's sensational story ever appeared in the Daily Prophet, few in the wizarding world had known about Dumbledore's wild and romantic youth. His reputation as the wise, serene headmaster had long buried all traces of his more colorful past.
And while some still found it odd that he never married, others shrugged it off as natural — after all, a powerful wizard could conjure anything he desired within his own imagination. Why bother with a partner when fantasy itself could be made real?
But ever since Rita Skeeter's latest exposé — revealing Dumbledore's supposed "affair" with Grindelwald — it had become impossible for anyone at Hogwarts to look at him without thinking too much.
Even Harry and his friends found it difficult not to recall those rumors when the Headmaster's name came up.
Sirius, who had been right there during the entire "examination incident," knew perfectly well that Dumbledore's actions toward Regulus had been purely magical in purpose… and yet, even he had found himself gritting his teeth, half-tempted to hex the old man.
"I think I'd better explain it to them," Sirius muttered, though the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth betrayed his amusement.
"They already know you were checking on Regulus," Dumbledore replied calmly. His sharp blue eyes caught the fleeting expressions on everyone's faces.
It didn't trouble him. After all, this sort of misunderstanding had followed him ever since the Prophet had published its scandalous pieces about Harry's childhood and Dudley's mischief.
Even Tina Scamander — Newt's wife — had once written Dumbledore a concerned letter, suggesting that her husband seemed too close to him.
At this point, Dumbledore had learned to live with the rumors.
The only person who seemed completely unaffected was Hagrid.
The half-giant refused to believe a single word Skeeter wrote. In fact, Dumbledore suspected that if Rita ever appeared near Hagrid, she might not make it out in one piece.
"Then shall we go out?" Sirius asked at last.
Before he could take another step, Dumbledore had already pushed the door open and strode into the hall, as if nothing unusual had happened.
Regulus, meanwhile, remained in the adjoining room, quietly resting in the dark.
It wasn't that anyone disliked or avoided him — far from it. Sirius had simply discovered that his younger brother preferred dim, shadowed spaces far more than bright ones. The darkness seemed to feed him somehow.
Even food itself had become optional for Regulus. He ate occasionally, more out of instinct than necessity. Sirius had noticed that Regulus seemed to draw more strength from resting quietly in the dark for an hour than from an entire meal.
Even Kreacher had stopped insisting on cooking elaborate dishes for his "beloved Master Regulus." On the contrary, whenever Regulus wandered out into the hall, the house-elf would appear just long enough to snuff out every light in his path.
So, gathering his courage, Sirius followed Dumbledore into the living room — a warm, forest-like space filled with the glow of enchanted candles and the aroma of fresh food.
The long dining table was covered from end to end: a steaming phoenix-song cake, Kreacher's famous French onion soup, buttery potatoes, fragrant stews, fruit pies glistening with syrup, and even a hearty steak-and-kidney pie.
Ron Weasley, usually the first to dive in, was poking idly at his fork, his stomach clearly protesting.
He knew the rule — no one started eating until Dumbledore sat down.
No wonder he'd been the one to barge in earlier; the poor boy had probably been driven by hunger more than curiosity.
"Professor! Sirius! You're here at last!" Ron exclaimed the moment they appeared.
His voice was too cheerful — the kind that desperately wanted to forget what had just happened.
"Is Regulus all right?" Harry asked quickly, seizing the chance to redirect everyone's thoughts. His tone carried that polite composure he'd learned from years at the Dursleys — deflecting awkwardness like a pro.
"He's fine," Sirius said, smiling despite himself. The memory of the earlier embarrassment faded in the relief of knowing Regulus would recover.
"That's wonderful!" Harry, Draco, and Lupin said almost in unison.
"Good news indeed! Master Regulus, the rightful heir of my old master, is safe!" Kreacher cried proudly before vanishing on the spot — no doubt to report the update to the portrait of the late Mistress Black.
Sirius only chuckled. He'd long since stopped caring about the family's "orthodox heir" talk.
Harry grinned. "So, Sirius — does this mean you don't have to wake up so early anymore?"
"Oh, that?" Sirius laughed. "Well, partly because of Regulus. I couldn't sleep, worrying about him."
Now that his brother was recovering, everything suddenly felt lighter — as if a great weight had lifted from his chest.
Ron, however, couldn't leave well enough alone.
"So… why was Regulus naked, exactly?"
Sirius's smile froze. Of course it had to be Ron.
Fortunately, Draco was quick to intervene. "Forget that. What's happening to him, anyway?"
"He doesn't seem to need food… and he can't tolerate light," Sirius explained, glancing toward Dumbledore.
The Headmaster, now seated at the head of the table, nodded thoughtfully. "Regulus is in a most miraculous state," he said. "His magical power has re-manifested inside his body in an entirely new form. It seems he can absorb energy directly from the surrounding darkness."
"Like a Boggart?" Ron piped up eagerly, mistaking the tone for an open question.
"Boggarts live in dark, confined spaces — closets, under beds, under desks, in grandfather clocks," he added proudly. "My dad said so!"
Dumbledore's fork paused mid-air. He had only lifted it to signal that the meal could begin — not to invite another comparison between Regulus and a nightmare creature.
The idea was so absurd it left even the ancient wizard momentarily speechless.
Harry and Draco exchanged looks of disbelief.
Lupin pressed a hand to his face.
Sirius wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.
"No, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said gently. "A Boggart doesn't truly live. It's what we call a 'non-being' — a creature neither born nor dying. It manifests from human emotion and feeds on fear, much like a Dementor feeds on despair. They appear spontaneously, like fungi growing in decay."
He set down his fork. "All known non-existences — Boggarts, Dementors, poltergeists — share one unique trait: the ability to fly or move freely without a physical form. It's a phenomenon no ordinary wizard can replicate."
Harry frowned thoughtfully, remembering how Alexander could fly with pure magic. The phrasing — almost impossible — caught his attention.
"And Regulus," Dumbledore continued, "is not like them. He is alive — truly alive. His condition is unprecedented, but he remains a being of life, not one of the non-existent."
"I see," Ron said, already halfway through a piece of pie. He didn't seem to realize how much he'd just embarrassed himself.
Fortunately, Kreacher wasn't present — otherwise, Ron might have found himself branded the enemy of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.
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(End of Chapter 280)
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