The Wrong Path

It was inspired after reading an article on the life of a Gangster Member, can't remember who yet…
But yeah, do review, I'd love to hear from you!



The girl is vomiting blood upon the stone floor, all sign of life has left her eyes. I lower my wand with contempt, what have I done…

She hasn't answered again, I fear that if I don't have the answer soon, my 'useful' existence may be questioned.

Oh, how weary I am of this, the girl is coughing, the kind of cough that makes her thin body shake, food is a luxury that most prisoners and some Death Eaters don't deserve in the Kingdom of Power.

Or at least, that's what My Lord says, and of course, Lucius Malfoy.

"Now, listen to me Tamsin," I use the silkiest voice I can muster under the circumstances, what venom!

"You're running out of chances, you know, the question is quite simple, answering it will just mean that you 'son' will not suffer the same consequences…"

Her head snaps up, the dead eyes are alight with the familiar fire. Ah! It works every time, father had taught me a long time ago, to always prepare a secret weapon against your opponent.

"The secret to success, especially in His world, is power, if you can control another with your weapon, then you have the power, if not, then you will not survive."

His theory is simple, which is why he is still alive, we build ourselves a small secret kingdom, one that is ruled by the powerful and the strong, and those incapable of strength are quickly destroyed…

"You will not touch my son! YOU BASTARD! YOU DON'T LAY A HAND ON HIM! YOU HEAR ME!"

She launches herself at me, her fingers curved into claws, as if she thinks she can rip me into shreds. I should imagine she would too, I laugh. It comes out as a dry humourless rasp, one that freezes terror into the girl.


Time for another demonstration, I lift my wand again and smile, but I can see the effect this has on her. She shrinks away, collapsing into her own vomit.

"Now, now, Tamsin, control yourself. All you have to do is tell me where he is, it's not that hard really. I would play the guessing game with you, but, don't you think you're too old for that?"

I allow my wand to spark with energy, she flinches, good, the perfect response.

"N-no."

I keep the grin, although, all I want to do is back away, leave this disgusting place, return home to Vanessa and Thristan…

Who are dead, because of the one I chose to serve.

"Crucio."

The energy courses into her, but with a little less anger than before, I have long learned to control the force of my energies, a method of keeping the victim alive as long as possible. Besides, it doesn't look like the full force of the curse is necessary for her to feel pain, she has already had enough.

"Western Supermare! Pl-please… he-he in West…"

That's good enough for me, she sobs, breathing heavily.

"What was that you said?" I ask.

She is too weary to retort at the silly question, but I enjoy it.

"Western Supermare, opposite the Bus Station-" she pants again, in exhaustion.

I feel her pain too, it was less than two days ago that I was vomiting blood, but this must lie in my memory only, no one is ever to know, otherwise, the respect and power I have built for myself will be destroyed.

"-Avalon Club, flat 5." She finishes, collapsing on the stone floor.

"Good…"

I take out a small piece of parchment and write down what she has said, the words immediately vanish into the thick material.

I wait, patience is a virtue after all.

Who said that anyway?

"Kill her." The words that appear, are written in the intricately neat writing of Lord Voldemort, the command is simple, yet I stare at it, unbelieving, 'But she just answered!' I am poised to write this, but that would be suicide, it would show my weakness, no, I wish to live, but I do not wish to live with this burden…

I look down at the girl, the mother of a four-month-old boy.

Do I dare to argue? Do I dare to risk my life, only to have her killed by someone else later on?

Is she worth it?

'No, kill her, it isn't as if you've never killed before, just get it over with, they're all expecting it from you, after all, what will they think of you, your father will be disgusted! You will be a shame to your family!'

Says the ever-present voice of hatred and self-pity that accompanies me everywhere.

I spite it for a moment longer, then put the parchment back in my pocket and lift my wand to her again.

I am not one for goodbyes and farewells.

"Avada Kedavra"