CH3: The Challenges of Prophecy And Fate

Vergil lifted a pebble from her hand, levitating it. There was a pull from her mind but nothing else. She didn't sense she was using a static resource with a slow recharge time. A year after her first birthday, they moved to Godric's Hollow to a shitty little cabin. Neither of her parents seemed inclined to use their vast fortune to hire mercenaries and take care of the problem. Sev was gone; she had responsibilities to the dark lord who wanted Vergil's family dead.

Harry or Neville Longbottom was reportedly the chosen one who would vanquish the dark lord. So, they were hidden under something called a Fidelius charm. While under the charm, no one could remember where they lived, even if they were standing outside their door.

It was the headmistress's idea, the dean of a school for children. Vergil sucked in a breath before letting it out slowly in a cute sigh. The rock dropped lightly back onto her palm.

The more she practiced and read, the better off she would be. Lily had started teaching her, but the phonetic letters differed from what she remembered. But it wasn't like there was much else to do than learn or train. After seeing Harry's tantrums, Vergil figured out how to levitate rocks.

With that, she came up with a new theory. Somewhere there was a grand enchantment connected to specific bloodlines allowing access to enchantments. So a great machine existed that consumed many lives daily and granted a few beneficiaries access. It was genius and possibly forgotten by the very people who built it. Ancient sites of grand rituals littered the world, possible test runs of the great machine before it was fully operational.

Vergil was good enough with her letters to read some history. Around the time of ancient Rome, magic became more accessible. Before wands, human sacrifice was rampant, especially among the gols; life was needed to gain any noticeable effect. The history book attributed it to wands, but a stick shouldn't be so powerful and versatile even with wood wrapped around animal matter. No wands were keys to the machine or powerlines allowing witches to harness the great machine. As a beneficiary, she had some access, but the key would greatly increase it.

That brought her to another uncomfortable conclusion her family might not be the uber-rich noble family she had first imagined. Vergil saw the manor as a sign of vast wealth, but that might not be true. If her family was truly as wealthy as she first imagined, they would have built an underground bunker somewhere in the mountains, killed the builders, and hidden until either the regime changed or the current regime won. Instead, her family followed the bidding of a school's headmistress for children.

Escape after the prophecy incited the dark lord was impossible. She had read up on the last great war, and their situation reminded her of the night of broken glass. Those who could escape did but only with the shirt on their back. Most lost everything and were forced to begin again in the States. Their night of broken glass was a year ago. Since history rhymes, then escape was impossible.

That's why she practiced with her pebble instead of freaking out while something was bound to happen. Vergil couldn't do anything. Running away was possible with her body's current strength; she could quickly get some distance. At her current estimate, by the local standard running all out, she could probably reach speeds of 200kph. The machine fed her body its sacrificial energy empowering her rituals further than expected. She was much better off than her little sister.

Escape had been set aside for plan C. Plan A was to wait and see if the old bitch as her mother calls the headmistress, could finally kill the dark lord. It looked unlikely. Plan B was to prepare an ambush when the dark lord eventually found their home. It was only a matter of time with Petra as their secret keeper. Her mother, Jamie, bragged about how they swapped to Petra, who no one would suspect. After Sirius died under torture, Petra was the next on the list. From there, it would be the Longbottoms and Tonks, from what Vergil recalled. That assumed there weren't any spies in their midst. Sev could be a double agent.

Vergil decided that the next time she saw Petra, she would kill the woman just in case. An accidental punch to the face would be enough to turn the woman's brain into mush. But, of course, then they would have to find a new secret keeper. Why wasn't one of her mothers the secret keeper? Vergil shook her head. The headmistress wanted it to be Sirius for some reason. The Fidelius worked one object per secret keeper. In this case, it was their house.

She found her mother, Lily, rubbing her dick like it owed her money and sucking on the head. Her ass spread wide, showing off her untouched asshole and dripping labia. Thick, smooth testicles hung heavily under Lily's massive shaft. The witch's feet were behind her head as Lily sucked away while plunging two fingers into her pussy.

Vergil coughed, but her mother didn't seem to notice. A bulge thickly pressed into Lily's throat as she sucked down her own shaft. She lifted the pebble off her palm and flicked it at the witch. Lily came down her own throat, asshole twitching and pussy dripping wet with want. Lily plunged her fingers deeper as Vergil backed out of the splash zone.

A long spray of feminine fluids drenched the floor before Lily pulled off her own cock, gasping for breath.

"Could you get me a towel, honey? I need to clean myself?" Lily asked

Vergil handed the woman a nearby folded towel and waited for her mother to get cleaned.

"Did you want something, or were you curious about what your mother was doing? Sorry love, but you can't learn about that until you're older." Lily said.

"I think we should leave the country," Vergil said.

Her mother wiped the cum off her chin before smiling. "Why would we want to leave? This is our home? There are people here who care for us and are fighting. If we left, others would follow, and the dark lord would win unchallenged. We are British witches, and we have our pride." Lily said.

Vergil didn't believe that, but it was most likely too late. The night of broken glass was a year ago. Running would get them killed at this point. On the other hand, Vergil might be able to get away if she left in the middle of the night.

She hated being a child. Lily might suspect something if Vergil mentioned that the dark lord could at any time burn the whole village of Godric's hollow to ensure he got them.

"Come here, honey," Lily said.

Vergil approached, and the woman picked her up and hugged Vergil to her ample chest. "I don't like it here. I want to go back," Vergil said.

She felt tears come to her eyes, and they felt real. Vergil missed her misinterpretation of the Potter's wealth. If they had enough money, they could solve the problem, but it wasn't to be.

"Jamie got a practice broom for Harry. Would you like one for Saturnalia?" Vergil nodded, and Lily pressed Vergil into her breasts. "Don't worry. I know times seem hard, but we will get through it. My cuck whispers doubt into the dark lord's ear about the prophecy. After all, honey, when you break a cuck, they are your cuck for life." Lily said.

…

The door shattered, and Vergil woke. "Get the girls; she is here," Jamie said as a duel began downstairs.

Petra huddled behind cover with hands over her ears, eyes closed, and practically ignoring reality. She had betrayed Vergil's family. Petra didn't have a scratch on her or even the most basic sign of torture. That was something that couldn't be forgiven.

"I had no choice," Petra repeated.

It was Petra's mantra.

A pebble hovered over Vergil's hand before blasting off toward Petra's head. The traitor hadn't expected an attack to come from Vergil. The woman began rocking shortly, just before Vergil fired the pebble. She missed and sprinted to finish the job. Petra saw her and turned into a rat before leaping into a hole in the ground.

Something was wrong that shouldn't happen. It was like plot armor from a story.

Dirt blasted upward from her footfalls as Vergil tried to stop. She adjusted her night clothes before a green flash filled the home. Jamie, her sperm father, if the woman could be called that, died. Vergil saw a post in the ground and uprooted it. Her fingers easily dug holes into the wood for a firmer grip.

The concrete hanging off the end of the post made it bottom-heavy. That was perfect. Vergil sprinted quickly, accelerating before throwing the post like a javelin. Voldemort weaved to the side before turning her red gaze on Vergil. The dark lord raised her wand before a sickly green light appeared on its tip.

Vergil ran forward, dashing from side to side. Her body practically vanished between jumps as she closed in. It was the prophecy. Vergil realized it when she stepped on the stairs, and they collapsed, stunning her long enough for the wand to point at her longer than a heartbeat. The spell flew, and Vergil bent her flexible body to the side, barely evading the spell. Another flick of the wand launched her hurtling into the wall as the spell green spell exploded the back wall hitting Vergil's body with shrapnel.

Prophecies were creations of gods decreed upon humans within their sphere of influence. Who made the prophecy, and what god did it come from? Or was she once again confusing her former world with the new one. She glanced at Jamie while she fell; the woman looked peaceful. There wasn't a blemish on her one moment; she was alive the next; she wasn't.

Vergil identified the green spell as a painless killing spell to ensure sacrifices gave the most energy. "Stay there, child. I will have use for you for my triumph." The dark lord said.

A triumph was a Roman tradition to parade captured enemies for all to see. The dark lord flicked her wand covering Vergil's body with transfigured ropes. A red light hit Vergil in the face knocking her out.