Chapter 225: Good Cat, Bad Cat
The horizon beyond the Black Lake was already bleeding a hazy, anemic white by the time Tamara slipped back into the Slytherin dungeons. Draped heavily in her Invisibility Cloak, she moved without a sound, a phantom returning from a long, grueling night in the library's Restricted Section.
She paused before the damp stone wall concealing the common room entrance. With a weary sigh, she pulled the silvery, fluid fabric of the cloak from her head. Before she could even part her lips to utter the password, a sharp, grating hoot echoed through the drafty corridor.
Tamara's brow twitched. She tilted her head back. Perched with infuriating boldness atop a serpentine gargoyle was Harry Potter's painfully conspicuous snowy owl, Hedwig. A crumpled roll of parchment was hastily tied to her leg.
Her expression hardened into a mask of pure ice. She closed the distance, snatching the letter with a sharp tug, and swatted a hand through the cold air to shoo the stupid, oversized pigeon away. Hedwig clicked her beak in offense before taking flight.
Tamara unrolled the abused parchment. The handwriting scrawled across it was frantic, practically gouged into the paper—unmistakably the work of Sirius Black.
Thanks. The food was received. I swear I smelled that stinking rat! Tomorrow night, I'm going into the Forbidden Forest to catch that mouse!
Reading the sheer, unadulterated Gryffindor recklessness dripping from every word, Tamara felt a deep urge to throttle something. 'That brainless, flea-bitten mad dog,' she sneered inwardly, her eyes rolling so hard they ached.
A spark of searing, wandless fire ignited at the tip of her index finger. The parchment caught instantly, curling into blackened ash that drifted down to the dungeon floor. He had managed to stay quiet for exactly a handful of days, and now he was already foaming at the mouth to rush out and hunt Peter Pettigrew again?
It appeared she would have to carve out time from her already suffocating schedule to visit the Shrieking Shack. She needed to properly leash this impatient, suicidal fugitive before he ruined everything.
"The Black family tree really is rotting at the roots," she murmured to the empty corridor, brushing the soot from her fingers. "Not a single functioning brain among them."
With a cold sneer, she hissed the password. The stone wall ground open, and she swept through the deserted common room, heading straight for the sanctuary of her dormitory.
The adrenaline of her all-night study session was rapidly fading, leaving this frail, pathetic teenage body hollowed out by a bone-deep exhaustion. The ancient runic scripts tied to the Deathly Hallows were no ordinary magic; they were woven with the deep, fundamental laws of life and death. Forcibly peeling back those layers and analyzing them had placed an agonizing, crushing weight on her spirit.
She collapsed onto the edge of her four-poster bed, the mattress dipping under her slight weight. Reaching into her bedside cabinet, her fingers closed around a cool glass vial filled with a swirling, electric-blue Energy Potion. She popped the cork and downed it in a single, ungraceful gulp. Under normal circumstances, a single dose—while a poor substitute for actual rest—would provide enough artificial vitality to endure a mundane day of Hogwarts classes.
Ten minutes ticked by. The grandfather clock in the corner mocked her with its steady rhythm.
The leaden fatigue emanating from the very core of her soul refused to lift. It clung to her limbs like wet sand.
Her brow furrowed in genuine irritation. She yanked open the drawer, retrieved a second vial, and threw that down her throat as well. The result was entirely disappointing. Aside from a faint, acidic burn gnawing at the lining of her stomach, the suffocating sleepiness remained completely untouched.
"Damned magical backlash..." Tamara muttered, pressing two pale fingers hard against her throbbing temples. She hated admitting weakness, even to herself, but her current, spiritually drained state simply could not support the charade of attending a full day of lectures.
She had no other choice. When Pansy Parkinson finally stirred, yawning loudly as she dragged herself out from behind her emerald hangings, Tamara fixed her with a flat, icy stare. She instructed the pug-faced girl to inform Professor Snape that she required a day of sick leave.
Pansy, intimidated by the sheer frost in Tamara's tone, nodded hastily and scurried out.
The moment the heavy oak door clicked shut behind her, the dormitory fell into absolute silence. Tamara dragged her leaden feet toward the ornate iron cage resting in the shadowed corner of the room. It was time to feed the beast.
Ever since she had confirmed that this seemingly ordinary black cat was, in fact, her most fanatical Death Eater, Bellatrix Lestrange, Tamara had kept the creature strictly confined. She had no idea what specific magical stimulus or emotional trigger might cause the deranged woman to suddenly revert to her human form.
If this feline suddenly morphed into Azkaban's most infamous, high-profile escapee in the middle of the Great Hall, not even a hundred silver tongues could explain it away to Albus Dumbledore.
Click.
The brass latch gave way. Tamara nudged a small porcelain dish of premium cat food through the opening.
The sleek black cat had been sitting with eerie, statuesque obedience in the center of the cage. The moment its dark gold, vertically slit pupils locked onto Tamara, they flared with an obsessive light. It let out a soft, fawning trill, immediately slinking forward, its tail curling into a question mark.
Its clear intention was to affectionately lick Tamara's offered fingers before deigning to touch its breakfast.
However.
The very second Tamara's pale skin hovered a hair's breadth from the sleek black fur, Bella's obsequious, rubbing movements violently froze.
The feline's hyper-sensitive olfactory nerves flared. It accurately captured a faint, lingering scent clinging to Tamara's fingertips, woven into the cuffs of her uniform, and dusting the edges of her discarded Invisibility Cloak. It was a scent that was intimately familiar—and utterly, violently repulsive.
It was the distinct, musky stench of a dog.
More specifically, it was the scent of the ultimate blood traitor. The wretch who had betrayed the noble House of Black. The cousin she hated down to the very marrow of her bones—Sirius Black!
"Hiss—!!!"
A screech, sharp and grating as a vengeful spirit, erupted from Bella's throat, echoing off the stone walls!
Within the chaotic, shattered labyrinth of Bella's animalistic logic, one absolute truth reigned supreme: her glorious, beloved Master was absolutely not allowed to be tainted by even a single, microscopic trace of that traitor's filthy stench!
Bella completely lost her mind. The cat launched itself forward like a coiled spring, jaws snapping viciously toward Tamara's outstretched hand!
"Are you insane?!"
Tamara's expression twisted in shock. She violently jerked her hand back. While her quick reflexes saved her from having a major vein punctured, the razor-sharp fangs still managed to scrape a harsh, stinging red line across the back of her pale hand.
The sudden, violent retraction of her arm knocked into the bedside table. The dish of cat food and a half-empty crystal vial of Revealing Potion toppled over the edge.
With a sharp crash, the glass shattered against the thick rug.
The potion, shimmering with a volatile, eerie silver light, splashed directly onto the thrashing, rampaging black cat.
The reaction was instantaneous.
Accompanied by a sickening, bone-chilling chorus of stretching cartilage and twisting flesh, the feline form writhing on the carpet rapidly expanded, its anatomy warping and elongating in a matter of agonizing seconds.
When the grotesque shifting ceased, Bellatrix Lestrange knelt on the floor before Tamara. Yet, this was not her pure human form. Protruding from her messy, dark curls were a pair of twitching, furry black ears, and a long, sleek tail whipped aggressively behind her.
Tamara squeezed her eyes shut, a wave of deep despair washing over her.
"Damned... blood traitor... filthy... hated smell..."
In this bizarre, half-transformed state, Bella's human reason was still entirely submerged beneath the predatory instincts of the beast. Her dark gold, vertically slit pupils remained locked with terrifying intensity on Tamara's hand. Indistinct, murderous murmurs bubbled from her lips, exposing slightly elongated canines.
Without warning, she dropped to all fours. Muscles coiling with the predatory grace of a true black panther, she lunged straight at Tamara!
"Petrificus Totalus!"
Tamara reacted with the honed instincts of a seasoned duelist, her wand snapping up to cast the Full Body-Bind Curse.
But in this hybrid form, Bella possessed far more than the innate magic resistance of a powerful witch. She was fueled by the terrifying, explosive agility of a wild animal. Defying gravity, Bella violently contorted her spine in mid-air. The jet of white light scorched past her shoulder, missing by a fraction of an inch!
Tamara didn't even have the breath to utter a second incantation before a heavy, frantic mass of limbs and fur slammed into her chest. The sheer kinetic impact tackled her brutally to the floor!
"Presumptuous wretch! Get off me!"
Tamara roared, her back hitting the carpet with a dull thud. She thrashed angrily, trying to channel wandless magic to blast the lunatic off her chest.
But her magical reserves were hollowed out, and her physical stamina was entirely spent from the sleepless night. In a pure, unrefined physical brawl, the fragile body of a teenage girl was laughably inadequate against a deranged, magically enhanced predator.
"Damned... Black... kill him... must wash the smell away..."
Bella straddled Tamara's waist, completely deaf to her Master's furious scolding. Only one frantic, obsessive directive echoed in her subconscious: she had to erase the foul stench of Sirius Black from her Master's skin!
Bella ducked her head, her claw-like fingers clamping down like iron vices around the very hand Tamara had used to hold the letter.
Having suffered through multiple encounters with this woman's brand of madness, Tamara knew exactly how far this lunatic was willing to go. Panic—a rare, infuriating emotion for the Dark Lord—flared in her chest. She struggled desperately, bucking her hips and kicking her legs in a futile attempt to dislodge the heavy weight pinning her down.
"Quiet... Master... Bella will clean it..."
A deep, rumbling purr vibrated in Bella's throat. She stared obsessively at the trapped hand, her tongue darting out to literally lick the scent away, when—
"Stupefy!"
Mentally drained and physically outmatched, Tamara abandoned any pretense of a dignified duel. She jammed her wand directly against Bella's temple and fired a point-blank Stunning Spell.
A flash of red light illuminated the dim room. Bella's frantic movements instantly locked up. Her golden eyes rolled back, losing all focus, and all the tension bled from her muscles. She collapsed like a puppet with cut strings, a dead weight slumping heavily against Tamara's chest.
Tamara gasped for air, her chest heaving. Gritting her teeth, she shoved the unconscious woman off her body, letting Bella roll onto the rug. Tamara dragged herself up, slumping against the edge of her mattress, her uniform rumpled and her hair a disheveled mess.
'System, what in Salazar's name is going on?!'Tamara demanded viciously in her mind, her mental voice dripping with venom.'How do I force this frantic idiot back into a cat?!'
[Ding! The host need not worry! The passive transformation effect triggered by the potion will only last for three minutes. Once the duration expires, your pet will automatically revert to its original feline form!]
Tamara glared down at the prone woman on the floor, her crimson eyes narrowing. She seriously needed to consider whether smuggling Bella out of Hogwarts was the safer play. Keeping a highly volatile Death Eater—one who could go feral and transform at the drop of a potion vial—within arm's reach was becoming a massive, unpredictable liability to her current, weakened state.
She raised her wand, murmuring, "Episkey," to heal the stinging red scratch on the back of her hand.
But just as the soothing magic began to knit the skin together—
As a creature fundamentally distorted by the System's bizarre mechanics, Bella's magical resistance was downright terrifying. That hastily cast, point-blank Stunning Spell managed to hold her under for barely a dozen seconds.
The woman sprawled on the floor twitched. Suddenly, those dark gold, slit-pupiled eyes snapped wide open. The feral haze had not lifted; her human reason was still buried deep.
"The smell... it's not clean yet..."
Bella hissed, her voice a guttural rasp. Like a bolt of black lightning, she launched herself from the floor, lunging at Tamara once again.
This time, her assault was entirely unhinged. She seized Tamara's wrist with bruising force. Her wild, frantic face leaned in close, her breath hot against Tamara's skin, while the two furry black ears atop her head pinned back flat against her skull in pure, animalistic irritation.
"Black... damned, filthy blood traitor..."
A deep, rumbling growl vibrated from Bella's chest. She opened her mouth wide, her lips curling back to reveal a set of unnervingly sharp, elongated fangs.
Tamara's pupils constricted to pinpricks.
Before she could even shout a curse, Bella, utterly consumed by her feral instincts, clamped her jaws down hard. She bit directly into Tamara's wrist—the exact spot where the phantom scent of Sirius Black lingered!
"Agh—!"
Tamara choked out a sharp cry of pain. The razor-sharp teeth easily punctured her fair, delicate skin. Warm, metallic-tasting blood instantly welled up from the wound, sliding down the curve of Tamara's wrist and flowing directly over Bella's tongue.
The taste of her Master's blood was a catalyst. The underlying, absolute System logic hardwired deep into the very fabric of Bella's soul was instantaneously triggered.
[Warning! Detected that the Host's life is under direct threat! Forcefully overriding pet's wild instincts! Restoring sanity...]
It was as if a bolt of pure, unadulterated lightning had struck Bella directly in the brain. Her dark gold pupils, previously swimming with mindless bestiality and brutal intent, contracted so violently they became mere slivers.
Even though she herself was the source of the threat, the System's absolute judgment forced the animalistic fog to evaporate. Her human consciousness slammed back into the driver's seat.
The exact moment Bella processed the metallic taste in her mouth and realized exactly whose flesh her teeth were sunk into, her entire body began to tremble with a violent, catastrophic terror.
She released her bite with agonizing stiffness. Smears of crimson blood stained her pale lips, stark against her skin, rendering her wild, aristocratic features eerily, morbidly beautiful.
Moving as if her joints were rusted iron, she slowly lifted her gaze, locking eyes with Tamara.
The young girl's eyes were no longer their usual color. They had bled into a terrifying, luminous crimson, burning with an apocalyptic rage.
Within those bloody irises, there was not a single trace of the fragile, pitiful little girl she pretended to be. Instead, there was only the suffocating, absolute aura of death. It was the gaze of the Supreme Monarch—the Dark Lord who had once trampled the entire magical world beneath his heel and ruled Britain through sheer, unadulterated terror.
"M-Master..."
Bella choked out, her lungs forgetting how to draw breath. Her fingers, still wrapped around Tamara's wrist, went slack. She released the bleeding hand as if it were burning coal and slowly, stiffly crawled backward off Tamara's body.
Her knees gave way the moment they touched the floor. With those ridiculous black cat ears still twitching atop her head, Bellatrix Lestrange collapsed into a posture of absolute, groveling submission beside the bed.
Her long black tail tucked tightly between her legs in primal, all-consuming fear. Her entire frame shook like a leaf in a hurricane. Her blood-smeared lips parted, trembling violently, and only after a long, suffocating silence did she manage to squeeze a fanatical, desperate wail from her throat.
"Punish me... Master... please... I beg you... punish me..."
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