Chapter 61: Feeding
Norbert was growing fast. Ridiculously fast.
In barely two weeks, it had gone from a tiny black lizard to a fire breathing little monster with spiked wings, and its appetite was just as alarming.
To make sure this future cornerstone of her legion could be transferred smoothly, Tamara had been forced to visit Hagrid's hut again and again.
And somewhere in the middle of all that, the reply from Albania finally arrived.
"To... My Lord."
The letter was written in an extremely rare invisible ink that only revealed itself beneath a specific incantation.
Hidden behind the curtains of her bed, Tamara read it by the faint light at the tip of her wand.
"When I saw that familiar mark upon the parchment, my hands began to tremble. It has been ten years. I knew you would never abandon your servant."
"Peritus has remained at that land. Though only a few blind Runespoors and a pack of ill tempered Hippogriffs are left now, I have continued to wait for your summons."
"As for the Norwegian Ridgeback you mentioned... what a perfect gift. I have already prepared a warm cave and await the arrival of this little fellow at any time."
"Your most loyal, Peritus."
Tamara burned the parchment and watched the ashes dissolve into the air, a satisfied smile touching her lips.
Peritus.
That strange old lunatic who preferred talking to beasts over people had not disappointed her.
"Very good."
"As long as Norbert reaches that place, it will become one of my hidden trumps."
...But before the dragon could be sent away, Tamara first had to endure its increasingly explosive temper.
That afternoon, in Hagrid's hut.
"Come on, Norbert, good boy, eat your meat!"
Hagrid held out a dead rat, trying to feed the dragon, which had already grown to nearly two feet long.
Norbert was clearly not interested in dead rat. With an angry hiss, it spat a burst of flame that singed half of Hagrid's beard, then swung its head toward Ron and tried to bite him.
"Oh, blimey!" Hagrid cried, hurrying to pin it down. "He's not in a very good mood today."
"He's never in a good mood!" Ron shouted, clutching his bitten finger and nearly losing his mind. "He's a monster!"
"Don't say that about him," Hagrid said at once, offended.
"Let me."
Tamara stepped forward, carrying a bucket of fresh chicken blood mixed with brandy.
"Norbert."
Her voice was soft, but the hatchling paused at once.
It turned its orange slit pupils toward her and stared warily.
Even with [Magical Creature Affinity +20%], it was still a dragon.
A bad tempered, teething, irritable hatchling of a dragon.
Tamara reached out with the bucket.
Snap.
Norbert lunged and bit down on her finger.
Though its tiny fangs were not fully grown, they were still sharp enough to pierce skin.
"Hiss..."
Tamara sucked in a breath. Pain shot through her hand at once.
"Damn beast."
A red light flashed in the depths of her eyes as murderous intent surged up on instinct.
For one savage instant, she truly wanted to draw her wand and Crucio the ungrateful reptile.
"I'll skin you and turn you into gloves."
[Ding! Warning! Host is showing violent tendencies toward a young magical creature.]
The system cut in immediately, as annoying as ever.
[Please remain calm, host. This is only a child.]
[Only gentle motherly love can influence it. Please do not resort to force. Use love to soothe it.]
[Mission: Dragon Mommy's Compulsory Lesson.]
[Requirement: Do not use violence. Soothe Norbert until he lets go.]
[Reward: Norbert Loyalty +10, Life +3.]
"Motherly love?!"
Tamara almost laughed from sheer disbelief. Her finger was being chewed on, and this damned system wanted her to act maternal.
What was she supposed to do, sing it a lullaby?
[That would also be an acceptable method.]
"Get lost."
Still, she forced herself to suppress the urge to reach for her wand.
She stared at the dragon clamped stubbornly around her finger and took a slow breath.
"...Good boy."
The words came through clenched teeth, her voice trembling with restrained fury.
"Let go... good boy..."
She did not yank her hand back. Instead, with her free hand, she began to stroke the dragon's scaled head as gently as she could manage.
It was a deeply absurd sight.
The Dark Lord's finger was bleeding, yet she was standing there stroking the culprit, her face frozen into something that almost looked like patience.
"Good... drink this..."
She pushed the bucket of chicken blood and brandy beneath Norbert's nose.
The rich smell of blood and alcohol finally caught its interest.
The hatchling released her finger, turned at once, and plunged its snout into the bucket, gulping greedily.
"Phew..."
Tamara snatched her hand back at once and stared at the bite marks, her face pale with pain.
"Tamara! Are you all right?" Hermione rushed forward, clearly intending to bandage it.
"Don't touch."
Tamara refused coldly. She pointed her wand at her own finger.
"Episkey."
The wound sealed almost at once, and the bleeding stopped.
"Blimey..." Hagrid stared at her with tears in his eyes. "Tamara, you're wonderful."
"He bit you, and you were still so gentle with him... you're just like his... his mother."
Hagrid pulled out a handkerchief the size of a tablecloth and blew his nose so loudly the hut seemed to shake.
"Before this, I thought I was the only one who understood Norbert. Now someone's finally got it."
"You're my soulmate, Tamara."
Tamara looked at Hagrid's huge, delighted face and felt her stomach twist.
She genuinely did not know which was worse, "soulmate" or "mother."
"...I just didn't want to waste a bucket of brandy."
Her voice was cold and clipped. She turned away at once, clearly unwilling to look at this scene of forced maternal affection any longer.
At the door, she paused with her back to them.
"Remember, Hagrid."
"Saturday night. Do not be late."
"And prepare more brandy for him. I do not want him waking midway and burning someone alive."
"Don't worry, Tamara!" Hagrid promised at once.
Walking out of the hut, Tamara looked down at the finger that still throbbed faintly.
[Ding! Mission Complete: Dragon Mommy's Compulsory Lesson.]
[Norbert Loyalty +10, Life +3.]
[Current Life: 17]
[System Evaluation: So, how does it feel to be a mother?]
Tamara went very still.
"Mother?"
The word echoed through the depths of her soul.
It brought no warmth.
Only estrangement.
Almost unconsciously, she touched the wand hidden in her sleeve, as though only that cold length of wood could give her any sense of certainty.
What had "mother" ever meant to Tom Riddle?
A weak woman dying on the steps of an orphanage.
The humiliation of abandonment.
Death.
It was the thing her life lacked most, understood least, and recoiled from most instinctively.
For a single moment, she felt a strange panic, as though she had been hurled into an abyss made of nothing but sticky, suffocating feeling.
"...Shut up."
It took her a long time to say even that much.
"Do not use that word on me again."
She drew in a slow breath, forcing the unfamiliar disturbance back down. When she lifted her eyes again, they were hard as iron.
"That is an excuse for the weak."
"I do not need such a thing, and neither does he."
Through a crack in the hut window, Tamara's cold gaze fell on the hatchling, who was still hiccuping over the bucket.
"This is only... an investment."
"Once he reaches Albania, Peritus will teach him properly what true loyalty means."
.....
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