Borgin had just locked the door and closed the blinds before straddling back to the counter. I remained perfectly still behind the bookshelf. I now had only six and half minutes of the potion left and I would need every second of it to make my escape. Watching the frail old man leaning against the counter for support begged an air of sympathy from those ignorant of the truth but I put all sympathy behind me and I concentrated solely on the task at hand.
I moved my left leg which had become distinctly heavy. My heart was thumping in my chest. Even breathing became difficult as I approached him one careful step at a time. He had his back turned to me and this allowed me to close in on him without his knowledge but even so why was I this frightened? I had killed before, more times than I care to remember but always with my wand. The killing curse has only one saving grace. It is quick and painless. But this was different. Now I was using a muggle gun. Only once prior to this day had I turned a gun onto another human being. When we went to Cornwall to look for survivors of the Cornish resistance I had to shoot a man. But that was in the heat of battle when my life was at stake. This was totally different. I had planned to do this.
I reached into my jacket as quietly as I could and I felt around for the metal of the gun. My fingers slid over the grip of the handle and into position. Even though Gary had said not to until ready to fire, in my hyper anxious state I put my index finger into the trigger guard and it rested on the arching metal that was the trigger. Now just fifteen feet from the still oblivious Borgin I slid the gun out of my jacket and once it was clear my thumb pressed up on the safety catch and it was ready to fire. I stopped just nine feet from him and my right arm stretched outward in a perfectly straight ninety degree angle from my body.
My right eye looked straight down the top of the gun. The barrel was aimed squarely at Borgin's head. I knew that in a few seconds a bullet was going to rip through his head and kill him. It was a brutal procedure. Muggles are truly barbaric creatures to use such weapons. What a terrible way for a muggle to die. What bigger disgrace is there for a Pure Blood?
Suddenly Borgin looked up. He must have seen my reflection on one of the jars because he spun around on the spot quite suddenly. Looking down the barrel I saw his face about to gasp as I squeezed the trigger. There was a loud popping sound not too dissimilar to the sound one makes when apparating. The recoil of the gun vibrated up my arm. Borgin's body fell to the floor. Dead!
I dashed towards his fireplace, hiding the gun back in my secret pocket before taking out the Floo powder which I proceeded to throw into the fireplace. It burst alive with green flames and I quickly climbed into them.
"Three Broomsticks!" I declared. The flames engulfed me and I found myself whizzing through the Floo network passing several fireplaces until I tumbled out of one into a very crowded and noisy tavern. Only the odd one or two people even noticed my arrival. Steadily and as quickly as I could I made for the door, knowing that my potion was going to wear off in just a few seconds. Once through the door I was now standing in the deserted streets of dead London. With so much magic from Diagon Alley still active I could apparate back to the school without the worry of Death Eater Tracers.
Only members of our cell can apparate directly through the Wards and Charms that protect our headquarters from unwanted guests. I landed rather abruptly in the main hall of the old muggle school. I landed with a slap on the tiled floor which caught the attention of Hermione and Gary who were walking down the adjacent corridor. No sooner had I sat up Hermione had caught hold of me and held me tightly.
"Its done!" I said breathlessly to Gary. "It's done."