Chapter 73: Scent
It was very late by the time Tamara returned to the Slytherin girls' dormitory.
The corridors were steeped in damp cold, but Tamara was in a fairly good mood.
Not only had she dealt with a potential teaching nuisance, she had also taken the chance to intimidate the rat named Peter Pettigrew. She had not killed him outright, but watching that traitor tremble in her palm had given her the familiar thrill of controlling life and death. It was, she felt, the finest sedative.
Tamara pushed open the dormitory door.
Her roommates were already asleep. Steady breathing rose softly from behind their bed curtains.
Only one black bundle remained awake on her bed, curled beside her pillow.
It was Nagini II.
This stupid cat, which did nothing but eat and sleep and occasionally trip over its own paws, was currently rolled into a ball of fur, apparently dreaming of dried fish.
Tamara walked over, intending to pick it up and dump it at the foot of the bed as usual.
However, the moment she came close to the bedside, the lingering scent of the rat drifted into the black cat's nose.
It was a distinct stench, a mixture of cowardice, filth, betrayal, and the unmistakable smell of Peter Pettigrew.
The black cat, which had been snoring lightly, went rigid.
The next second...
"Hiss!"
A shrill hiss filled with violent rage exploded through the silent dormitory.
The lazy black cat sprang upright as if something had stabbed it. Its fur bristled into a black sea urchin, its back arched to an absurd degree, and its golden slit pupils narrowed to pinpoints as it stared fixedly at Tamara's hand.
To be precise, it was staring at the hand that had just gripped Scabbers.
There was not a trace of ordinary feline stupidity in that gaze.
What replaced it was a human kind of malice, a madness so intense it made the air turn cold.
It was pure disgust, the kind of rage one might feel upon seeing a holy relic smeared with filth.
Tamara paused and frowned at her suddenly deranged pet.
"What is wrong with you?"
She had no idea that at this moment, inside that feline shell, the maddened soul of Bellatrix Lestrange had awakened because of that scent.
Clearly, on the Hogwarts Express, Bellatrix's broken soul had been too weak and had remained buried beneath feline instinct. At that time, its head had been full of nothing but dried fish, yarn, and chasing its own tail.
But now Bellatrix's soul was screaming.
In her mind, the useless trash named Wormtail, that sewer rat who was not fit to polish her Master's shoes, had stained something sacred.
And now her noble, flawless, divine Master's hand carried that filthy scent.
Unforgivable.
Absolute sacrilege.
"Meow agh!"
The black cat let out a cry that barely sounded like a cat at all. Instead of retreating, it launched itself at Tamara like a black bolt.
Tamara instinctively shifted aside, but the cat was shockingly fast.
It seized her right hand, its claws snagging even the cuff of her robe to keep her pinned in place.
Then it lowered its head, extended its barbed tongue, and began frantically licking the back of her hand.
No, not licking.
It was scrubbing, as if it meant to strip away the layer of skin contaminated by that scent.
It was hot, wet, and rough, with a revolting stickiness. A cat's tongue is covered in tiny barbs, and under such frenzied speed and force it felt like coarse sandpaper grinding over delicate flesh.
"Hiss... let go!"
Tamara winced sharply.
It felt as though the back of her hand was about to be flayed by this mad beast.
"You little monster, let go!"
She tried to yank her hand back, but the cat's grip was absurdly strong. It clung to her with all four paws, hind legs kicking at her sleeve while a strange growling purr vibrated in its throat.
And in those golden eyes there was actually a trace of fanaticism.
If Tamara had been able to understand cat language, or read souls directly, she would have heard Bellatrix screaming in hysteria.
Master. Master's hand. That filthy rat dared taint it. Clean it. Clean it. Clean it!
Tamara stared at the crazed cat in confusion.
This blind fanaticism, this possessiveness laced with destruction, this reckless madness... it was all far too familiar.
So familiar it made her feel a cold, instinctive disgust.
In the memories of her past life, there had only ever been one person, or rather, one lunatic, who behaved like this in front of her.
The madwoman who would set the whole world on fire for her. The one who would kneel on the ground weeping, kissing her hand, licking away even the dust.
Too familiar.
Bellatrix Lestrange.
"...Bella?"
The name slipped out of Tamara's mouth almost unconsciously.
The instant it heard that name, the black cat froze.
It lifted its head. Its golden eyes actually gleamed with tears. It was the ecstasy of being recognized, the overwhelming urge to answer.
It opened its mouth, clearly trying to cry out that noble title.
"Meow..."
But only a broken cat's cry came out.
Tamara frowned, watching the wild emotions shift in those eyes.
Madness, then ecstasy, and then... grievance?
"I really must be losing my mind."
She shook her head and cast the absurd thought aside.
In this timeline Bellatrix Lestrange was still rotting in Azkaban. There was no way she could be here as a cat.
And even if it really were Bella, how could that woman possibly endure being turned into such a pathetic creature?
"I should find a chance to have you neutered."
Tamara gave herself that cold, rational explanation for the cat's behavior.
A stinging pain spread across the back of her hand.
She looked down. The skin that had once been pale and smooth was now red, raw, and beginning to ooze blood.
This damned cat.
"Enough!"
Tamara's patience snapped.
She had no taste for being mauled, and she certainly did not intend to tolerate a pet hurting her.
Killing intent flared in her eyes.
"If you like biting so much..."
She lifted her foot, aiming it at the black mass of fur.
"Then go reflect against the wall."
She meant to teach it a lesson. A proper one. It needed to understand who its master was.
However...
The next second, the black cat that had been furiously licking her suddenly shuddered like a machine whose power had been cut.
Bellatrix's briefly awakened soul, having spent all its strength in rage, was instantly shoved back down beneath feline instinct.
That human like madness ebbed away in an instant.
In its place were a pair of round, foolish cat eyes.
"Meow?"
Nagini II tilted its head at Tamara's raised foot, as if wondering whether this was some new game.
Then it happily pounced on the toe of her shoe, wrapped its forepaws around her ankle, and began rabbit kicking frantically with its hind legs.
It nearly strangled itself on the lace.
The contrast between this idiotic sight and the previous crazed state was so absurd it bordered on offensive.
Tamara's leg remained frozen in midair.
If she kicked now, it would be like bullying a simpleton.
The anger she had built up felt like a blow striking cotton. It left only a tight, suffocating pressure in her chest.
"...Idiot."
She slowly lowered her foot and picked up the black cat, which was still wrestling with her shoelace.
Nagini II dangled in the air, blinking innocently, and even stuck out its tongue to give Tamara's finger a soft, ingratiating lick.
"Meow woo."
It made a sweet little cry, as though the lunatic from a moment ago had never existed.
[Ding! Detected pet is acting spoiled toward you.]
The system's annoying voice sounded again.
[Look, host! How attached it is to you! That intense behavior just now was only because it loves you too much and wanted to clean the foreign scent from your hand!]
[What deep and clumsy love this is!]
[Temporary Quest: Touch of Love.]
[Please respond to its affection and do not treat this poor little kitty with violence.]
[Reward: Love +1.]
Tamara looked at the apparently harmless black cat in her hand, then at the swollen and bleeding back of her own hand.
She took a slow breath, feeling her temples throb.
"Love?"
"It nearly skinned me."
She tossed the cat back onto the bed with a rough flick.
"Since you enjoy cleaning so much..."
Tamara drew her wand and flicked it toward the cat.
"Scourgify!"
A cloud of soap bubbles instantly swallowed Nagini.
"Meow agh!"
The cat yelped and rolled madly across the bed, trying to shake the foam off its fur.
"Now you're clean."
Tamara watched the scene with cold satisfaction before turning to the washstand to tend to the wound on her hand.
"If I catch you going mad again..."
She glanced back and added in a dark tone,
"I'll turn you into a pair of gloves, and then you can hold my hands forever."
The black cat seemed to understand. It dived under the blanket in terror, leaving only the tip of its trembling tail sticking out.
And beneath that thick duvet...
In the muddled depths of the cat's mind, a faint soul curled up and screamed with delight.
Master... Master punished me...
Master still loves me... she even bathed me herself...
Even if the soap got in my eyes... I am so happy...
That stinking rat's smell is finally gone... heehee... heeheehee...
Of course, Tamara heard none of this.
She only felt that the dormitory was unreasonably noisy tonight, and even the air seemed filled with a familiar scent of madness that made her head ache.
Tamara cast a Healing Charm over the back of her hand, then lifted her eyes to the mirror and studied her own grim reflection.
"It seems... I need to find a time to cut open its brain and see what is actually inside."
.....
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