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The Black Witch! Ch 8
🕑 Added 2025-10-21 08:13:16 +0000 UTCChapter 8 (~9k words):
– Amara –
A couple days later.
…Having Morgana back home with us, after she'd been away for days hunting down a few of her stolen artifacts, felt good. I could admit it—I’d missed her terribly. More than just physically—though I couldn’t lie and pretend her absence hadn’t left me horny and frustrated as hell, it was deeper than that.
With Morgana, Daphne, and Astoria all together under one roof again, I felt like I had an actual, functional family for the first time in my entire fucked-up life. Not like the sham, dysfunctional orphanage bullshit I’d grown up with.
No, this was a real coven, sisters and lovers bound by magic, trust, desire, and loyalty.
I'd had something like family once before, briefly, with Sirius. But life had cruelly snatched him away from me almost as soon as I'd found him. That wound stayed fresh, a constant simmering fury that never faded—just like the [Simmering Fury] drawback described. But distance helped, and staying across the Atlantic, far from the fucking pieces of shit who’d robbed me of my godfather, let me keep that rage at a manageable simmer instead of an uncontrollable blaze.
And of course, distractions always helped, too. Like training my new coven sisters and getting thoroughly fucked by my mentor. That second one hadn't happened nearly as often as I'd wanted, however, as I'd mentioned she'd been gone for the past couple days.
Most of that time I'd simply spent training up Daphne and Astoria in more dark spells.
Daphne, herself, was already capable of casting the killing curse which was very impressive, but at the same time that spell wasn't practical in sustained combat because of how much magic it took to cast. She could probably only cast it three or four times before completely tiring out her reserves of Mana. Even a powerful dark lord like the former, and now dead, Voldemort might be only able to cast that spell 10 to 15 times a day.
It was a spell that was better for shock and awe than actual practicality. Plus, instant death was just so boring wasn't it!?
This morning was one of those calm, pleasant moments that let me keep the anger comfortably in the background. The kitchen smelled richly of cooking bacon, the pan sizzling loudly on the stove as I expertly flipped a batch of fluffy, golden-brown pancakes. I always liked cooking breakfast. It felt domestic, strangely wholesome for someone who so openly embraced her darker impulses. Maybe I was a contradiction.
Whatever. I fucking loved pancakes and crispy bacon.
As I finished stacking the hot pancakes onto a plate, I turned slightly and checked Morgana, Daphne, and Astoria at the dining table. Daphne and Astoria were both chatting eagerly with Morgana, clearly thrilled to have her back. Astoria was describing in vivid detail exactly how I’d taught them the spell Corruptio Viscera, her cheeks flushed with excitement, eyes practically sparkling as she recounted the splattering gore.
Morgana chuckled in approval, giving me a satisfied, appreciative glance.
I smiled smugly back at her. Yeah, I'd done a good job with them while she was gone.
Carefully balancing multiple plates, I carried the pancakes, bacon, and fresh-cut fruit over to the kitchen table, setting them down in the middle for everyone to help themselves.
“Alright ladies, dig in,” I announced playfully, taking my seat next to Morgana. “Fresh pancakes, bacon hot off the pan, and the rare privilege of my spectacular company. You’re welcome.”
Astoria laughed lightly, reaching eagerly for the pancakes. “God, Amara. You really do spoil us sometimes.”
Daphne nodded appreciatively, taking some bacon for herself. “Yes, thank you. Breakfast always tastes better when you’re the one cooking it, for some reason.”
“Probably my secret ingredient,” I joked casually, loading my own plate with pancakes, syrup dripping generously over them. “Pure, undiluted sex appeal.”
Astoria blushed adorably at my words, and Daphne almost choked on her bite of bacon, quickly hiding her laughter behind a napkin.
Morgana gave me a knowing, sly grin, running a possessive hand over my thigh beneath the table. “I can certainly attest to that,” she murmured, voice low, warm and husky in my ear. “Everything you serve is always perfectly delicious.”
I leaned into her touch, my cheeks heating faintly as I smiled. “Careful, Morgana,” I teased her quietly. “If you start flirting like that, we won’t make it through breakfast.”
She laughed softly, pulling her hand back with a final, teasing squeeze. “Perhaps later, then.”
We ate together in comfortable silence for several moments, the quiet broken only by appreciative sounds and the occasional playful teasing between Daphne and Astoria. It felt strangely normal, peaceful even.
Moments like this reminded me sharply how much I’d lacked a true home until now.
After a few minutes of eating, Morgana’s head suddenly snapped upright, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully as she paused mid-chew. Her magic seemed to briefly ripple outwards, invisible to the others perhaps, but I sensed it clearly—a cautious scanning of the wards she had carefully placed around our warehouse safehouse.
“What is it?” I asked, instantly alert, fork still raised halfway to my mouth.
“Someone just passed through our outermost wards,” Morgana said quietly, her voice calm but wary. “They were only here a moment. They left immediately, but they deposited something at our front door.”
My curiosity was instantly piqued. “Something?” I repeated. “You’re sure it wasn’t dangerous?”
She tilted her head slightly, eyes briefly distant as she checked once more. “I’m sure. It feels like…a gift, or a delivery of some sort?”
“I’ll check it out,” I volunteered, rising quickly from my seat. Morgana gave me a small approving nod, pleased with my initiative.
I strode quickly to the side entrance door, pulling it open cautiously and peering out. Sure enough, a small, ornate box rested directly on the ground in front of our entrance, placed with careful precision. The craftsmanship was remarkable—carved wood inlaid with delicate silver filigree, small gemstones glittering gently along its edges.
Interesting.
Picking it up carefully, I shut the door firmly behind me and returned to the kitchen table, placing the mysterious delivery down for everyone to see.
Morgana observed carefully but remained silent, clearly waiting to see how I’d handle this. With a focused thought, I instantly summoned my wand to my hand.
Carefully, methodically, I ran through the detailed series of diagnostic charms Morgana had painstakingly taught me, probing the box thoroughly for both mundane and magical traps. I checked for hexes, curses, dangerous enchantments—anything that might harm any of us. Morgana’s quiet scrutiny during my careful, thorough examination gave me confidence; her approving nod confirmed I’d learned my lessons well.
“It’s clean,” I finally announced confidently. “No curses, no traps. Just a secure box.”
Morgana gave me a small, satisfied smile. “Excellent work, Amara. You’re learning beautifully.”
With that vote of confidence, I lifted the lid slowly, revealing the contents within.
Inside the velvet-lined interior rested a lavishly decorated parchment letter—embossed with gold and black ink, its intricate design screaming wealth, secrecy, and prestige. But my attention was quickly drawn to what lay beneath it. Two polished white masks stared up at me, ornate and instantly recognizable—familiar porcelain masks with stylized, hollow eyes, their design unmistakably belonging to the Court of Owls.
“Looks like our official invitation finally arrived,” I announced, feeling a thrill of dark anticipation as I removed the masks carefully, placing them on the table in front of us for everyone to see. Then I gently pulled the elegant letter from its resting place, handing it directly to Morgana. “Here, you should read this. Something tells me they’d prefer communicating directly with our coven leader.”
Morgana chuckled softly, amusement flickering in her eyes as she unfolded the parchment. “Such diplomacy,” she teased me gently. “You really are learning quickly.”
“Only from the best,” I shot back playfully, taking my seat again. I eagerly watched Morgana’s expression as she began reading, intrigued to know exactly what the Court wanted from us next.
I watched Morgana intently as she carefully unfolded the ornate parchment, scanning over its contents silently. Her piercing eyes moved steadily, taking in every pretentious line of text while the rest of us waited in an increasingly uncomfortable silence.
Impatiently, I drummed my manicured nails on the wooden table, trying not to let my curiosity boil over. Next to me, Astoria was practically bouncing in her seat, clearly eager to hear whatever juicy bit of intrigue the Court of Owls had delivered to our doorstep. Daphne was more composed, her delicate features set in a carefully neutral expression, but I could see the faint twitch in her jawline that betrayed her own tension.
After what felt like an annoyingly long minute, Morgana finally set the letter down gently, folding her hands atop it as she leaned back in her chair. Her dark red lips curled into a knowing smirk, and I raised my eyebrow, waiting impatiently for her to speak.
“Well,” Morgana began, her voice smooth, controlled, with an edge of amusement, “as anticipated, the first paragraph of the letter is nothing but excessive flattery. Apparently, the esteemed Court of Owls is utterly delighted to welcome the legendary Morgana le Fay and her promising apprentice, Amara Black, officially into their prestigious ranks.”
I couldn’t stop the snort of derision that escaped my lips. “Jesus,” I muttered sarcastically, rolling my eyes theatrically. “Sounds like those rich assholes went all out kissing your ass. Did they promise you a fucking golden throne next?”
Astoria giggled lightly at my crude remark, quickly covering her mouth with her hand, eyes darting guiltily toward Morgana, who merely smiled indulgently at me.
“Sadly, no mention of a golden throne, Amara,” Morgana responded dryly. “But, despite their sycophantic praise, the Court’s letter also contains something more intriguing. An interesting request.”
Daphne immediately perked up, leaning forward and resting her chin gracefully on the back of one hand, her blue eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “An interesting request, you say? Just what kind of ‘interesting’ are we talking about exactly, Lady Morgana? Because, powerful as you undoubtedly are, dealing with the Court of Owls requires extreme caution. They’re all snakes—every single last one of them.”
“I appreciate your concern, Daphne,” Morgana replied calmly, giving Daphne a warm but confident smile. “But I assure you I’m quite capable of handling these vipers. And, yes, the request is intriguing enough that I think even our dear Amara will find it rather compelling.”
My curiosity immediately shot up another notch. Morgana rarely said things lightly—if she called it compelling, I knew damn well it wasn’t some mundane bullshit.
Morgana turned her mesmerizing gaze toward me, the intensity of her stare making me shift slightly in my seat. “The Court has received intelligence that MACUSA is quietly attempting to re-establish itself here in America.”
“Makusa?” I repeated aloud, tilting my head slightly and furrowing my brow as the name triggered a vague memory. “Makusa… MACUSA… Where have I heard that before…?” I muttered to myself.
Then it clicked, and my eyes widened slightly with realization. “Wait, hold on—MACUSA, wasn’t that the American equivalent of the Ministry of Magic? The magical governing body here in America that got absolutely obliterated during World War II, thanks to Grindelwald and his forces?”
“Precisely,” Daphne responded immediately, looking at me approvingly.
“You got it,” Astoria chimed in enthusiastically, batting her eyelashes playfully at me. “Honestly, Amara, you’re so smart sometimes. I love how easily you recall all these details…” she trailed off flirtatiously, biting her lower lip suggestively.
I rolled my eyes at Astoria’s shameless flirting, though inwardly I couldn’t deny it pleased me. Still, I shot her a teasing smirk. “Careful there, Tori, or Morgana will scold us for distracting the class again.”
Morgana chuckled softly at my jab, her deep green eyes glinting with amusement as she gave Astoria a playful but warning look. “Ladies, do try to contain your… enthusiasm,” she drawled. “As I was saying—yes, Grindelwald and the Court of Owls cooperated closely during that era. Decades ago, it was in their mutual interest to ensure that MACUSA was dismantled completely. Having a separate magical government in America threatened the Court’s control over this continent’s magical and non-magical affairs alike.”
Daphne and Astoria both froze, stunned. Daphne leaned forward, her elegant brows knitting together in disbelief. “You’re telling us the Court actually helped Grindelwald back then?” she asked, voice tight. “That would make them directly complicit in—Merlin, half the atrocities of the war…”
“Of course they were complicit,” Morgana said smoothly, smiling faintly as if discussing the weather. “The Court always places power and influence above morality. In their minds, alliances are just temporary arrangements—tools to achieve dominance. Grindelwald’s defeat didn’t change that philosophy. It only made them more cautious about overt magical politics.”
Astoria gasped softly. “That’s… insane. They’ve been manipulating governments that long?”
Daphne let out a bitter laugh. “Honestly, it makes sense. I hate that Father forced our family to get involved with them...”
I grinned at that, resting my chin on my hand. “Hey, if your father hadn’t dragged your family into that snake pit, I never would’ve met the two of you.” I gave both sisters a teasing wink. “And wouldn’t that have been a damn tragedy?”
Both sisters flushed a deep pink—Astoria biting her lip and glancing away, Daphne pretending to adjust her hair just to hide her face. Morgana sighed, shaking her head with an indulgent smile. “Amara, stop tormenting the lovely sisters,” she said, though her tone was more amused than scolding. “Now, if I may continue…”
She tapped the letter with one manicured finger. “According to the Court, MACUSA is attempting to rebuild itself—quietly, discreetly—right in Metropolis of all places.”
My brows shot up. “Metropolis? Are you serious? They’re setting up shop in the city that literally has Superman flying overhead every damn day? Talk about fucking suicidal.”
Morgana chuckled softly, clearly sharing my incredulity. “Yes. Perhaps they believe that hiding in plain sight, beneath the shadow of such a powerful protector, will keep them safe. Or perhaps they’re hoping to use Superman’s presence as a distraction. Either way, the Court isn’t amused. They’ve requested that we… address this situation.”
“‘Address it,’” I repeated with a smirk. “That’s Court-speak for ‘wipe them out before they become inconvenient,’ isn’t it?”
“More or less,” Morgana confirmed with a graceful shrug. “They want us to investigate how far along this so-called reformation has progressed—and ensure it collapses before it threatens their authority again…”
Daphne frowned, thoughtful. “But wouldn’t that put us at odds with some very powerful forces? If Superman ends up involved—”
Morgana waved a dismissive hand. “Superman will not interfere in matters he is not aware of. The man is noble, but painfully naive when it comes to magic. He’ll be watching for aliens or weapons of mass destruction being created from his rival Lex Luthor, not a secret magic government that secretly hates him…”
Astoria leaned forward eagerly. “So, does that mean we’re going to Metropolis?” she asked, her voice almost bubbling with excitement.
I smirked, already feeling that familiar rush of anticipation bubbling up in my veins. “Looks like it, sweetheart. Time to stretch our legs and pay America’s second most infamous city a visit…”
…As a concept, having a structured magical government made sense—at least historically speaking, back during Salem witch trials and other bullshit witch hunts centuries ago. But now? In modern-day America? As far as I knew, magical people here were getting along just fine without MACUSA’s oversight.
Honestly, the whole idea felt outdated and pointless. The statute of secrecy was dumb in my opinion. Especially with blatant magical users in the Justice League—even if the public naively still didn’t think it was real magic, just some meta-human powers that looked like it.
It wasn't hard to figure out why MACUSA suddenly wanted to show their faces again after decades. It wasn't about protecting witches or wizards anymore—this was all about power, plain and simple. They missed having control.
America had functioned perfectly fine for decades without their authoritarian oversight over this continent's magic. In fact, I’d say it's been thriving more than Britain for sure. Ordinary witches and wizards went about their lives quietly, discreetly, and effectively, blending seamlessly into the muggle population when necessary.
MACUSA reemerging now?
They clearly weren’t back to "help." No, they were back to exert control, to regulate and monitor—exactly the kind of shit I hated the most.
Morgana accepted the Court of Owls' request to shut this MACUSA revival down, part of me couldn't help but wonder if what we were about to do might technically qualify as "heroic."
Could a villainess-in-training perform heroic acts unintentionally? Was there even a point in categorizing it like that? Shit, I'd probably end up killing people today, and something told me heroes frowned heavily upon incinerating illegal government agents.
I wasn't overly concerned with morality, but the irony of the situation certainly wasn't lost on me.
I sighed quietly, shaking those philosophical thoughts away and refocusing on the task at hand. Morgana, Daphne, and Astoria had each split off to search different sections of Metropolis. Splitting up saved us time and gave us more efficient coverage. I was tasked with combing through one of the busier downtown areas of the city, a bustling district thick with towering glass skyscrapers, vibrant cafés, upscale shops, and endless throngs of busy, oblivious people rushing to and fro beneath the morning sunlight.
I moved deliberately down the crowded sidewalk, extending my senses carefully, methodically scanning for any sign of magical concealment or defensive wards. Witches and wizards tended to use specific types of protective enchantments—anti-muggle charms, repelling fields, magical barriers—and if MACUSA was back, they'd be heavily warded against muggle interference in some locations.
My senses stretched outward, probing delicately. Magic felt distinctive, a tangible, electric hum vibrating subtly against my consciousness, an unmistakable sensation impossible to describe to those who couldn't experience it. I walked slowly, cautiously extending my magical perception, utterly absorbed in the task, until—
Wham.
Lost in my thoughts, completely distracted, I failed to notice the gorgeous woman walking toward me until our bodies collided head-on. My smaller frame was instantly knocked backwards—holy shit, was she solid—and I landed painfully on my ass, sprawled awkwardly on the sidewalk.
“Oh my gosh! Are you okay? I'm so sorry—I wasn’t watching where I was going at all!” Her voice was sweet and genuine, practically radiating innocent sincerity, even as her vibrant blue eyes swept worriedly over my fallen form.
I paused briefly, momentarily stunned, as I fully registered the woman standing above me. Holy shit. She was stunning. Drop-dead gorgeous, borderline supermodel gorgeous, with bright blonde hair tumbling loosely past her shoulders in soft, luxurious waves. Her tight white T-shirt hugged her toned stomach perfectly, thin cotton stretched provocatively across firm breasts, hinting enticingly at the shape of her nipples beneath. Short, blue denim shorts barely covered shapely, long legs that looked strong yet unmistakably feminine.
“No, no, it's my fault,” I replied hurriedly, accepting the delicate but oddly strong hand she extended down toward me. “I'm new here—just got to Metropolis actually—and I got a bit distracted. I really should've been paying better attention.”
She pulled me up effortlessly with surprising ease, a warm and dazzling smile lighting up her flawless face. Standing now eye-to-eye, I realized she wasn't much taller than I was, maybe by an inch or two, yet she felt infinitely sturdier, practically immovable. Her eyes were stunningly blue, deep and vivid. Something about her felt annoyingly familiar, yet I couldn’t quite place it. Maybe it was just her ridiculous level of attractiveness triggering some weird déjà vu?
“Don’t worry about it at all,” she assured gently, her voice earnest. “Honestly, I'm pretty new here myself. I've only been living in Metropolis for a few months now. Still learning my way around.”
“Is that so?” I asked, giving her my best charming smile, intentionally holding her gaze for a few seconds longer than strictly necessary. I definitely noticed the faint blush dusting her cheeks as she looked away shyly. Interesting reaction for someone who probably got hit on constantly. “I just moved to America recently, from England. Metropolis is way brighter and bigger than I'm used to. I got overwhelmed, I guess.”
She laughed lightly, almost musically, brushing a loose strand of golden hair behind her ear with a shy glance downward. “I totally get that. My hometown is tiny compared to this city. Definitely takes some getting used to.”
“I'm Amara, by the way,” I offered casually, extending my hand toward her again, officially this time. “Since I knocked into you, I figure proper introductions are only polite.”
The gorgeous woman shook my hand firmly, her grip gentle but solid, her warm skin smooth and incredibly pleasant to touch. Her eyes met mine again, and there was a momentary spark there, a curious and slightly interested glint before she smiled wider, appearing more relaxed. “It's really nice to meet you, Amara,” she said genuinely. “My name’s Kara. Kara Danvers.”
Fuck…
What was my luck!? First Nightwing, then Raven, and now Supergirl? Was there something about me that just attracted superheroes…?
Other than my amazing sexy charms of course.
And yet, my instincts couldn’t stop the teasing words that automatically left my lips now that I recognized her. “You know, Kara, you look extremely familiar. Have we met before? Or maybe you've been in the news or magazines recently? Something about your face…”
Kara flushed adorably, shaking her head sheepishly as she laughed shyly. “Oh, no—I seriously doubt that. I’m definitely not famous or anything. Probably just one of those faces, you know?” I couldn't help but notice the way her gaze lingered thoughtfully on my face and chest, subtly admiring my tight-fitting, black tank top that hugged my full breasts. A faint pink blush dusted her cheeks before she quickly met my eyes again. "So, Amara," she began softly, her voice holding a shy but friendly curiosity, "what brings you to Metropolis anyway? Work, vacation—or just an impulse for adventure?"
I chuckled lightly, a soft sound that felt natural and comfortable. "I suppose you could say work. It's sort of a… temporary assignment," I said vaguely, carefully sidestepping the more problematic details. "Though I'd be lying if I said the city itself wasn't part of the appeal. I've always loved big cities—something about the chaos, the noise, the endless opportunities. It just suits me."
Kara nodded enthusiastically, her eyes shining with shared excitement. "I totally get that! There's so much going on here—so many interesting people, such incredible energy. It's practically contagious." She laughed softly, brushing her hand through her golden locks. "I guess that's why I picked Metropolis too. I was just looking for a place where I could start fresh, explore, and maybe find my place in the world."
I tilted my head slightly, intrigued. "Oh? Starting fresh—sounds like there's a story there."
She smiled again, a bit sheepishly this time, and glanced downward as if briefly embarrassed. "You caught me," she admitted, her voice softening slightly. "Nothing scandalous or anything. Just... moving away from a small town, wanting to see the world beyond that. I wanted something bigger. Something exciting." Her eyes met mine again, a playful sparkle dancing there. "Like bumping into mysterious, attractive strangers on crowded city streets."
"Careful there, Kara," I joked lightly, smirking softly at her. "You flatter me like that, and you might never get rid of me."
Kara giggled again, her bright eyes dancing with delight, clearly enjoying our spontaneous little flirtation. "Oh, I don't know—something tells me having you around might be pretty entertaining. And it certainly wouldn't be the worst way to spend an afternoon."
Okay, so maybe I was slacking off from my assigned search mission—just a little bit. But fuck, I couldn't help myself. The impulsive words had practically blurted themselves out of my mouth earlier. Before I'd even realized what I was doing, I was asking Kara if she wanted to grab some coffee together.
The moment I'd suggested it, Kara’s entire face had lit up with delight. She’d accepted instantly, excitedly, and before I knew it, the two of us were nestled together in the cozy corner of a charming little coffee shop I’d spotted across the street.
We sat across from each other at a small round table, sipping lattes and chatting in a way that felt effortless, intimate, almost strangely familiar.
"I absolutely adore your accent, Amara," Kara said suddenly, grinning warmly at me from over the rim of her steaming mug. She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows comfortably on the tabletop as she smiled shyly. "It's so pretty and sophisticated. Reminds me of characters from those classy British dramas I binge-watch. So where exactly are you from? Like, specifically?"
I chuckled softly at the enthusiasm in her voice. Damn, she really was cute as hell—earnest and genuinely sweet in a way I hadn't expected. "I'm from London," I told her simply, smiling faintly as I met her eager gaze. "Born and raised there. Spent most of my life in the city—though not exactly the nice, posh parts."
Her blue eyes widened slightly with genuine curiosity. "Oh, really? You seem so..." she paused for a moment, biting her lip thoughtfully as she searched for the right word, "...elegant? Like someone who would've grown up sipping tea in an enormous estate somewhere."
I laughed lightly at that, shaking my head. "Hardly. No mansions or sprawling gardens in my childhood. My background is honestly pretty dull. I spent years at a rather shitty orphanage until I finally managed to get out."
“Oh.” Kara’s expression softened immediately, her eyes filling with a blend of sympathy and understanding. “I'm sorry—I didn’t mean to pry or anything. That sounds really difficult.”
“No worries,” I assured her casually, waving away her concern with a gentle, dismissive gesture. “Honestly, I don’t really mind talking about it anymore. I've long since accepted that part of my past. And anyway, enough about me—what about you, Kara? Where’d you live before coming here to Metropolis?”
Kara hesitated. After a second, she quickly recovered her warm smile, though her response seemed carefully vague. “Oh, I uh, lived on a small farm actually. Way out in Kansas. Middle of nowhere, practically.” She laughed a little nervously, not quite meeting my eyes now.
I noticed immediately that she avoided naming her hometown or mentioning any family specifics. It was kind of cute how transparent she was about hiding things. Though of course, thanks to my annoying [Cursed Knowledge] drawback, I already knew exactly who this adorable blonde truly was. Kara Zor-El—cousin to Superman, and now known to the world as Supergirl. Although, I’m pretty sure she has only become a known figure recently. One of the newest official members of the Justice League.
Not that I planned on telling her that I knew. It was more fun this way, pretending ignorance. And besides, there was no way in hell I was outing myself as anything special or suspicious either.
I leaned back comfortably in my chair, offering her a teasing, gentle smile. “Kansas, huh? Now that sounds like the complete opposite of bustling Metropolis. Do you miss that small-town life at all?”
“Sometimes,” she admitted quietly. “I do miss the quiet, and the slower pace of things. But honestly, being somewhere new and exciting like Metropolis—it feels amazing. There are so many opportunities here, so many fascinating people to meet.”
She glanced shyly at me, her cheeks tinged pink again. Damn, she was easy to fluster. I couldn't resist continuing my playful interrogation.
“How old are you, anyway?” I asked casually. “You seem pretty mature, but also incredibly enthusiastic at the same time. It's an intriguing combination.”
She laughed lightly, the sound bright and musical. “I just turned twenty-one a few months ago,” she told me. “And you, Amara? You're definitely younger, right?”
I nodded easily. “Yeah, nineteen actually. But I think I’ve seen more of life than most people twice my age.”
She raised an eyebrow curiously. “So... are you studying anywhere? Attending one of the universities in Metropolis maybe?”
I gave her a dismissive little wave, smirking faintly as I lied with practiced ease. “No, I decided to take a gap year. University can wait. I'm still figuring out what exactly I want to do with myself.”
“A gap year?” she laughed brightly, shaking her head in amusement. “I get that. Honestly, I think I’m on my third gap year now. At this rate, my gap years might become permanent.”
I chuckled softly. Of course, given her Kryptonian education, Kara was probably one of the smartest beings currently walking around on this entire planet. If she wasn’t attending college, it definitely wasn’t because of lacking intelligence.
“Honestly,” I teased, “something tells me that you’re already far smarter than most people anyway. You definitely give off a hidden genius vibe.”
Kara giggled, ducking her head shyly, clearly pleased by the compliment. “You're really sweet, Amara,” she said softly, her bright blue eyes meeting mine warmly, filled with unmistakable attraction. “Honestly, I—” She was abruptly cut off by a shrill beeping sound emanating from her wrist. Kara glanced down at the extremely high-tech looking watch on her wrist, frowning deeply as it beeped urgently. “Oh no,” she murmured worriedly, clearly recognizing whatever this alert was. She looked up at me, expression apologetic and flustered. “Amara, I'm so, so sorry—but this is an emergency. I have to leave immediately.” Before I could even fully respond, Kara had already jumped from her chair, pulling out her wallet and quickly dropping some money onto the table for our coffees. “It was really, truly nice talking with you, Amara. And I promise I'll call you later!” she added hastily, offering me one last brilliant, distracted smile.
And then she was suddenly gone, zipping out of the café with that absurd superhuman speed of hers. She vanished in an instant, leaving me sitting there alone, slightly stunned.
“We didn't even exchange phone numbers yet…”
But of course, Kara was already out of earshot. A second later, my own enhanced senses picked up a distinctive, whooshing sound above the café. No doubt Supergirl was already streaking through the sky above Metropolis, rushing off to whatever critical Justice League mission had summoned her.
I leaned back in my chair, sipping my coffee slowly. Maybe this unexpected little distraction wasn't actually such a bad thing. After all, with Supergirl gone, there was a good chance Superman himself would be away from the city, too.
That was certainly helpful timing, considering our current mission.
Deciding I should inform Morgana of this latest development, I casually pulled out my phone, sending her a brief message about Kara and the situation.
– Morgana –
“What…?” Morgana muttered to herself as she read the message Amara just sent her on their new cell phones.
“Just had coffee with Supergirl. She and Superman should be out of the city for a while…”
How does her apprentice always stumble into these wild situations whenever Morgana is not around…? Well, Morgana found the suspected new headquarters of MACUSA so at least the news she just got from Amara was good news.
– “Mad-Eye” Moody –
Mad-Eye Moody limped through the overly elaborate halls of the newly established MACUSA headquarters, the metallic thunk of his prosthetic leg echoing sharply off polished marble floors. His magical eye swiveled restlessly in his skull, scanning each hallway, corner, and dark alcove, never trusting his surroundings—certainly not in the company he currently kept.
Beside him strutted President Alexander Myers, recently appointed head of MACUSA. The man puffed his chest out like an arrogant peacock, his shiny black boots clicking sharply against the polished stone with every pompous step. Myers was the picture of smug confidence, chin raised high, eyes sharp and calculating, every syllable he spoke dripping with a condescending superiority that grated on Moody’s nerves.
“And over here, we have our new detection system!” Myers announced loudly, his voice booming with enthusiasm that bordered on fanatical. He gestured dramatically to a long row of gleaming silver instruments manned by dozens of stern-faced wizards and witches, all diligently watching glowing magical screens. “This revolutionary enchantment is so advanced that it allows us to pinpoint unauthorized magical activity anywhere on the East Coast within mere seconds. Soon, we’ll have our Aurors trained well enough to track down and apprehend these rogue witches and wizards before they even have a chance to flee.”
Moody studied Myers with his good eye, noting the unsettling fire in the man’s gaze and the way his mouth curled cruelly around words like “apprehend” and “rogue.” Something about Myers unsettled Moody deeply. He felt like a dictator—one of those smug bastards who hid their craving for power behind the thin veil of “order and security.” Moody silently cursed Dumbledore for sending him to this madhouse. Whatever was happening here, this didn’t feel anything like the alliance-building he’d hoped for.
Myers continued eagerly, oblivious to Moody’s barely concealed disgust. “I assure you, Mr. Moody, anyone caught breaking the Statute of Secrecy will be imprisoned without trial. America’s magical community has become far too brazen in its interactions with the No-Majs—or Muggles, as your people like to call them. The fact that wizards and witches marry those filthy, ignorant non-magicals is a disgrace!” Myers' voice rose sharply in agitation, face flushing red beneath his carefully groomed silver beard. “We’ll be reinstating the old purity laws soon enough, Mr. Moody. Magical and No-Maj marriages must be prohibited once more. Allowing those disgusting unions in the first place was the greatest mistake MACUSA ever made!”
Moody’s lips curled into an involuntary sneer as Myers’ hateful rhetoric spilled forth freely, eyes shining with a feverish zeal. The man was outright dangerous, Moody decided grimly—fanaticism in its purest form. He briefly wondered who exactly had elected such an authoritarian prick as the new president of MACUSA. Certainly not anyone with half a bloody brain, he reckoned bitterly.
“President Myers,” Moody said gruffly, interrupting Myers' latest tirade, deciding it was time to redirect the conversation before he snapped and hexed the bastard right then and there. “I appreciate your… enthusiasm… for keeping your people safe from exposure. But perhaps we should return to the reason I was sent here in the first place.”
Myers paused, a flicker of irritation briefly crossing his face, clearly unused to being cut off. Yet he quickly composed himself, donning an oily, practiced smile as he inclined his head magnanimously. “Ah yes, of course, Mr. Moody. How rude of me. I was merely excited to share our ambitious reforms. Do continue.”
Moody grunted impatiently, not buying the polite act for a second. “Dumbledore told me you two have had several correspondences. As you’re already aware, he agreed to send considerable funds from Hogwarts' private accounts to help re-establish MACUSA after its long absence. He also authorized some of our top Aurors—myself included—to come over here and whip your new recruits into shape.” Moody leaned forward slightly, glaring intently at Myers with both eyes now. “In return for this considerable aid, you agreed MACUSA will assist the Order of the Phoenix when it’s time to confront Voldemort directly. We have your solemn word on that?”
“Of course, Mr. Moody,” Myers replied instantly, expression shifting into one of earnest sincerity that Moody didn’t believe for a bloody second. “MACUSA honors its commitments. If this Voldemort fellow truly poses such a severe threat to Britain’s magical community, it’s only natural we aid our brothers and sisters overseas in stopping him. You can count on us, I assure you.”
Moody eyed him warily, studying every twitch of the man’s face and every nuance in his voice. He didn’t trust Myers as far as he could throw the arrogant sod—which admittedly wouldn’t be far, with Moody’s battered body. He gave Myers a stiff nod anyway, keeping his suspicion firmly hidden behind a grim poker face.
“Glad to hear it,” Moody growled. “But talk’s cheap. Why don’t you show me exactly what kind of material you have for Aurors? If we’re supposed to train these people into competent fighters worthy of standing against Death Eaters, I want to see precisely what I’m dealing with. Show me your new Auror recruits.”
Myers flashed him another oily smile, nodding eagerly. “Certainly, Mr. Moody. Right this way, please.”
Moody limped after Myers down another overly-grand hallway, following the MACUSA leader through two enormous bronze doors that swung silently open at their approach. They stepped into a vast, gymnasium-sized chamber where several dozen witches and wizards, mostly young and clearly inexperienced, were assembled into neat rows. The would-be Aurors straightened up noticeably when Myers entered, a ripple of nervous tension passing through their ranks.
“Here we are,” Myers announced proudly, spreading his arms wide as if showing off a prized collection. “Our best and brightest recruits. Every single one chosen for their pure magical bloodlines and their unwavering devotion to MACUSA’s mission. Of course, some lack real combat experience, but that’s where your expertise comes in, Mr. Moody.”
Moody studied the recruits critically. Most of them barely looked older than Hogwarts graduates, their eyes wide and uncertain. Several fidgeted nervously beneath Moody’s intimidating stare, clearly uncomfortable under the harsh scrutiny of his magical eye. Moody’s lip curled into a dissatisfied sneer.
“These kids are greener than spring grass, Myers,” Moody growled bluntly. “I don’t see a single recruit among them who’s seen actual battle.”
Myers’ expression hardened, his voice dropping dangerously low. “They’re obedient and loyal to MACUSA, Moody. That matters more than battle experience right now. With your training, they’ll quickly gain the combat skills they require.”
Moody snorted dismissively, shaking his head. “Obedience means jack-shit when you’re face-to-face with dark magic, Myers. You’re naive to think blind loyalty alone makes an Auror worth a damn. If these kids aren’t battle-ready, they’re nothing but fodder for Voldemort’s curses.”
Myers scowled deeply, jaw clenching tightly as he glared daggers at Moody, clearly unhappy at having his authority challenged so directly. “Of course, that's why you're here to train them in the first place! and they won't be going up against any Dark Lords anytime soon. They'll be practicing their skills on ordinary law breaking witches and wizards primarily!”
Moody frowned at that. “Oh? And what are they gonna do about any dark wizards or witches currently in America?”
Moody was annoyed by the expression on the president's face after he asked that question, the president was looking at him like he was an idiot. “What are you talking about? We don't have any dark lords or ladies IN MY COUNTRY! Everything is completely under control here!”
BOOOOM!
And of course, right as he finished saying that the entire building violently shook, as Moody sensed the powerful magical wards around the new headquarters had all simultaneously gone down.
– Amara –
Morgana raised her hand, signaling Daphne and Astoria to remain outside as the four of us stood before the deceptively mundane building.
To a regular person, it looked like nothing more than a boring office complex, but our Mage sight clearly revealed shimmering layers of potent magical wards draped protectively around it—charms specifically designed to keep nosy, oblivious Muggles at bay.
I had no doubt this modest-looking facade concealed something far more expansive, luxurious, and intricately enchanted within. Wizards fucking loved that 'bigger-on-the-inside' cliché. Ok, I loved it too. Having big rooms was pretty great.
Daphne and Astoria both immediately frowned, visibly unhappy with Morgana's decision to exclude them from the initial assault. Daphne, arms folded beneath her impressive chest, scowled lightly as she spoke up first. "Lady Morgana, please reconsider this. We've trained hard these past few days. Amara herself said we were making significant progress. We're capable now, we can assist you both."
Astoria chimed in quickly after her sister, nodding earnestly with large, pleading blue eyes. "Exactly! You shouldn't underestimate us just because we're newer. We've already learned several powerful dark spells—let us come with you! We promise we won't slow you down."
Morgana shook her head firmly, her eyes meeting each sister's gaze with calm, gentle authority. "My dear witches, your enthusiasm is admirable, and yes, I know you've improved greatly. But trust me when I say there is an enormous difference between learning magic under controlled circumstances, versus facing true violence and death. Casting a deadly spell in practice against enchanted dummies is easy enough, but taking a human life in combat—where hesitation or uncertainty can get you killed—is an entirely different matter altogether."
Her expression softened briefly, perhaps in sympathy toward the two disappointed sisters. "Your time will come, soon enough. But for now, you two will guard the perimeter. If anyone attempts to flee, if someone manages to slip past us, I trust you'll handle them. Do you understand?"
Daphne sighed softly, recognizing Morgana’s logic despite clearly still feeling disappointed. "Yes, Lady Morgana. We'll make sure nobody escapes."
Astoria nodded reluctantly as well, looking slightly pouty but determined to obey. "Fine... just please be careful in there."
Morgana’s lips curled into a wicked smile as she slid an arm possessively around my waist, pulling me closely against her side. "Don't worry, my darlings," she teased gently, addressing Daphne and Astoria but clearly talking to me. "My lovely apprentice and I have faced worse dangers. We can handle a few pathetic MACUSA bureaucrats." Then, leaning in even closer to me, Morgana whispered hotly into my ear, her breath tickling the sensitive skin of my neck and sending delicious shivers rippling down my spine. "Oh, and don't think I've forgotten your little 'date' with that pretty superhero girl, Amara. Going out and having fun behind your Mistress’s back while I spent all day tracking this place down?" Her voice dripped low and smoky, making my knees weak. "You’ll certainly be receiving punishment later, my sweet little succubus apprentice."
Fuck yes. I swallowed audibly, thighs pressing together involuntarily as Morgana chuckled softly at my reaction. Who was she kidding—any punishment she could conjure would only leave me begging her for more, not less. A wicked grin spread slowly across her lips before she released me, turning toward the building with renewed focus.
"Now," she instructed clearly, raising one hand toward the protective wards around the entrance, "prepare yourself, Amara. Let’s give these arrogant magical politicians the surprise of their pathetic lives!"
Without further hesitation, Morgana unleashed a devastating jet of brilliant, dark purple lightning from her outstretched hand. The magic crashed violently into the invisible wards with immense force, crackling arcs of destructive energy dancing briefly across the protective barrier. A moment later, the defensive spells shattered completely with a sharp, explosive burst, the wards flickering one last time before dissipating harmlessly into nothingness.
I took a deep, calming breath, composing myself and slipping easily into my best budding-dark-lady resting-bitch-face. Squaring my shoulders confidently, I followed Morgana’s graceful stride toward the main entrance.
The moment we crossed the threshold, my suspicion about the place being much larger on the inside immediately proved correct. Instead of the plain, dull lobby you'd expect from the exterior, we stepped into a massive, ornately furnished chamber filled with marble columns, polished floors, plush carpets, and exquisite woodwork. Doors lining the corridors on both sides burst open simultaneously as panicked wizards and witches poured out into the lavish lobby, all dressed in expensive-looking business robes, each gripping their wands fearfully as they stared at us with shock and growing horror.
"What in Merlin’s fucking name is going on here!?" a loud, arrogant voice suddenly boomed out from the grand staircase across the lobby. A smug-looking, finely-dressed wizard descended swiftly, flanked closely by a scarred, hideous-looking man who limped along with difficulty, clutching a long wizard's staff rather than a standard wand. The richly dressed wizard stomped angrily toward us, puffing himself up indignantly. "I am President Alexander Myers—the head of MACUSA! Do you two witches have any bloody idea of the severity of your actions? You've blatantly violated multiple magical laws with this ridiculous assault—prepare yourselves for the consequences!"
Morgana simply scoffed loudly, clearly unimpressed by the arrogant fool’s blustering threats. Before she could open her mouth to reply, however, the grotesque, limping man hobbled forward with a sharp intake of breath, his mismatched eyes darting between Morgana and myself in confusion and amazement.
"Merlin’s balls… twins!? It’s worse than Dumbledore feared!" the ugly wizard gasped roughly, raising his staff defensively toward us, his expression shifting from shock to grim determination. "Twins… There’s bloody two of you! Damn it, but that doesn’t matter! I recognize exactly who you two dark witches are!"
"Oh, really now?" Morgana purred mockingly, raising one elegant eyebrow, clearly assuming he was about to correctly name her as the ancient, legendary Morgana Le Fay.
But the scarred man instead jabbed an accusing finger straight at us both, shouting triumphantly, "Of course I do! Dumbledore himself warned me all about you—you two must be the secret twin daughters of Voldemort and Bellatrix Black! Dark witches, both of you! I know your faces from Gringotts’ wanted poster. You especially, Amara Black—I’ve heard all about your bloody massacre there!"
Massacre? Only one Goblin got killed, and that was Morgana who killed him, not me! Although, I guess since she killed the only witness I would be blamed for that goblin's death, wouldn't I? Not that I cared about the beast after everything Morgana told me about them and their disgusting culture and methods of reproduction.
And then the rest of his dramatic speech registered with me.
Secret daughters of Voldemort…?
Morgana muttered under her breath, her voice laced with clear offense and irritation. “Of all the arrogant, blind fools in this miserable age,” she hissed, crossing her arms as she glared at the limping old man in disgust. “To think that scarred, decrepit bastard genuinely mistook me—Morgana le Fay—for the offspring of some weak, upstart dark lord. The audacity. I’ve ended empires older than that half-blood pretender he’s babbling about.”
Her tone was venomous, every word dripping with wounded pride. She looked like she could have peeled the skin from Moody’s bones purely out of spite. I could almost feel the energy radiating off her, the sharp, dangerous pulse of her annoyance filling the air.
Then she turned toward me, her expression shifting from insulted disdain to something far more dangerous. A feral grin stretched across her lips, sharp and full of promise. “Tell me, my dear apprentice,” she purred, her voice lowering to a soft, predatory tone, “did you hear what that ugly, limping fool just said?”
I met her gaze, my own irritation building. “Yeah,” I said, my voice dry but curious. “Something about us being twins or whatever—the daughters of a dead dark lord and… Bellatrix Black? Sirius’s cousin?” I frowned slightly, still trying to process it. “That’s what he said, right?”
“Not that,” Morgana said softly. She stepped closer. “Did you catch the part about him knowing Dumbledore personally? The same man who tried to destroy your life, my beautiful, vengeful apprentice.” Her tone darkened, every word dripping with malice and temptation. “I wonder,” she mused, tilting her head thoughtfully, “if they’re good friends?” She leaned in closer until her breath ghosted over my ear, her next words slow, deliberate, and deliciously cruel. “Wouldn’t it just break Dumbledore’s heart if you sent him a parcel one day—with his dear friend’s head neatly packed inside!?”
The moment she said it, something inside me snapped.
I felt my expression twist, my control slipping. That infernal, ever-present anger that never truly left me—the curse of my [Simmering Fury]—came alive with a vengeance. My jaw tightened, my nails digging into my palms as I struggled not to explode right there.
A low growl rumbled in my throat. “That sounds like a damn good idea,” I said darkly, my voice shaking with contained fury. “Let’s see how long Dumbledore keeps preaching his ‘forgiveness and redemption’ bullshit when he’s staring at his friend’s rotting skull.”
Morgana’s grin turned downright devilish, eyes gleaming with delight at my reaction. “There’s my perfect little monster,” she whispered approvingly. “Let us kill them all…”
– Supergirl –
A couple hours later…
Kara hovered silently above the devastated streets of Star City, feeling utterly exhausted. Every muscle in her body ached, her ribs were sore, and her normally flawless skin sported painful bruises. And yes, bruises—despite her Kryptonian invulnerability, this fight had been brutal enough that even she bore obvious damage. Below her stretched block after block of shattered concrete, burning wreckage, and overturned cars; the once bustling city center had been cordoned off by authorities, emergency lights flashing silently against crumbled storefronts and blackened debris.
It had all started when Green Arrow ran headlong into some unstoppable android calling itself Amazo. Recognizing quickly he was outmatched, Oliver had frantically called for assistance from the entire Justice League. At the time, that request had seemed reasonable enough.
But once reinforcements had arrived, everything rapidly spiraled out of control. Rather than being overwhelmed by the combined strength of Earth's greatest heroes, Amazo adapted—absorbing and copying every single League member’s powers.
And then the situation had rapidly turned nightmarish.
Kara winced in embarrassment, replaying her humiliating moments battling the ruthless robot. Amazo had effortlessly replicated her own powers alongside Superman’s incredible Kryptonian strength and flight. Then it had further elevated its lethality by assimilating Batman’s unparalleled martial arts expertise. The end result had been painfully clear—Kara and Clark both took the brunt of a savage beating.
As Kara drifted downwards towards her fellow heroes, she couldn’t suppress a flash of admiration as her gaze settled upon the slender figure in the flowing black cloak.
Raven of the Titans.
When Amazo had initially copied Raven's magical abilities, something had gone seriously wrong. While it had replicated other powers flawlessly, the android started to smoke and malfunction after it tried copying her powers. Once it glitched, they were able to all dogpile and destroy it!
In Kara’s opinion, Raven had proven herself the true MVP of today’s desperate battle.
Down on street level, Superman and EVEN Batman had just finished personally congratulating the dark-clad young heroine. Raven appeared somewhat overwhelmed by their praise.
Supergirl was a bit jealous but knew the other girl deserved it today.
She floated down to join Nightwing and Raven. She landed lightly in front of them, forcing a cheerful smile despite her exhaustion and soreness. Raven, noticing her approach, shifted uncomfortably and offered a hesitant, shy smile in return.
“Hey, Raven,” Kara greeted warmly, genuinely pleased to speak directly with the quiet heroine. “I just wanted to say you were incredible out there today. Seriously, we’d have never stopped that psycho robot without you. I mean it—thanks for pulling our asses out of the fire.”
Raven’s pale cheeks flushed vividly beneath her dark hood, clearly unaccustomed to such direct and glowing compliments she kept getting.
Nightwing, standing beside her, chuckled softly, nudging her playfully. “See? I told you,” he teased gently. “Even Superman himself was impressed. You're finally getting noticed by the League, Raven.”
Raven ducked her head slightly, clearly flustered but smiling shyly at Kara’s earnest praise. “It—it wasn’t just me,” Raven murmured modestly. “This was a team effort. Everyone gave it their all out there, especially you, Supergirl. You were incredible, too. You saved countless lives.”
Kara laughed softly at that, shaking her head self-deprecatingly. After all, Amazo’s ruthless pummeling was still painfully fresh in her memory. “Oh, trust me, I’m not so sure about that,” Kara admitted dryly. “After that asshole copied my cousin’s powers and mine, he proceeded to use us as punching bags. Not exactly my finest hour, getting my butt kicked like that.”
Nightwing grinned sympathetically, placing a comforting hand on Kara’s shoulder. “Don’t sell yourself short, Kara. You both bought us valuable time. Besides, bruises heal.”
Kara sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. “Honestly, I probably would’ve been more useful staying behind in Metropolis today. You know,” she added wistfully, “I had just started a promising date with a pretty girl earlier today. Instead, I’m here, beaten and battered.”
Nightwing raised his eyebrows immediately. “A date, huh?” he teased. “Well, now you’ve piqued my curiosity. Who’s the lucky girl to get to go on a date with THE Supergirl?”
Kara laughed softly, shaking her head. “Well, if you must know,” she admitted lightly, feeling herself blush slightly, “she’s pretty amazing. Honestly, when I first bumped into her, she almost didn’t seem real. Long, silky black hair, flawless skin, absolutely perfect curves, rosy lips, and these incredibly gorgeous emerald-green eyes—”
Kara broke off suddenly, noticing the unexpected stiffness in both Nightwing and Raven’s posture. Raven had gone deathly still, her usually calm expression replaced by something between shocked recognition and alarm. Nightwing’s teasing grin faded abruptly, replaced by intense seriousness.
“You… you said this girl was in Metropolis? Not Gotham?” Raven asked slowly, carefully, her voice noticeably strained as she exchanged an uneasy glance with Nightwing. “Did… did you happen to catch her name, Kara?”
Kara frowned slightly at their unexpected reactions, puzzled. Had she said something strange? “Yeah, we exchanged names at least. Hers is Amara. Why—do you two know her or something?”
A strained, uncomfortable silence fell heavily between the trio. Raven and Nightwing shared another tense look, clearly engaged in some unspoken, nervous conversation. Raven bit anxiously at her lower lip, her eyes troubled.
Nightwing finally spoke, his voice low and carefully controlled. “Amara… black hair, green eyes, absurdly beautiful…” He paused briefly, releasing a heavy sigh. “Please tell me she didn’t give you her last name, did she?”
Kara shifted uneasily now, unsure what was happening. “Um, yeah actually,” she replied uncertainly. “She introduced herself as Amara Black. Wait… Should I know who she is?”
XXX
Comments
Akalynn
Tftc!
byan marthy
Amanda Waller would love having that fake president in her cells. Or dead. One of the two.
