He could tell it was a cat, but he realized with a jolt that he couldn't identify which Clan it belonged to—the stale stench of fox still confused his smell-sense.
There was laughter inside his own head, shrill, high-pitched laughter . . . he could smell the Dementor's putrid, death-cold breath filling his own lungs, drowning him - think . . . something happy . . .
She opened the three windows, bringing in the smell of oak leaves and earth, but the fresh air could do little toward dispelling the sickening odors which had accumulated for weeks in this close room.