Good help is so hard to find((Carlin))

[Pyro Blackfire S5]

Pyro's icy blue eyes glared at the man sitting across from him. The man was skinny and small, resembling a walking weasel more then a man. He was the type that had survived his entire life by slinking away and hiding in the dark, a bottom feeder who remained just useful enough to not be crushed entirely. “I didn't ask for excuses Radigan, I asked for results.” The two sat in a side booth of the Leaky Cauldron. Pyro found that doing business in a more reputable place like Diagon Alley meant less wandering ears then if they had conducted this meeting in Knockturn Alley. It was an extremely warm day today in the alley. Pyro wore his cloak, but it was pulled back behind his shoulders, showing off his well toned arms in his sleeveless vest and his hood was pulled back, his trademark blonde braid hanging between his shoulders.

Radigan squirmed uncomfortably, both the location and the conversation unnerved him. “The protection spells around the item are strong, sir. It's going to take some time to safely remove them and retrieve the item.” Pyro's quirked one eyebrow, “Are you telling me that the acclaimed Radigan, charm breaker, isn't as reliable as advertised?” Pyro leaned foreword, his eyes narrowing. His tone never changed, but the danger in his eyes was a clear enough threat. “I paid good money for your services, and I hate to waste my money on shoddy work.” Radigan slunk back at the young mans words, he sunk deep into the booth's cushioned seat. “Your father was always pleased at my work.” He muttered quietly to himself.

The air in the booth suddenly turned icy cold, Radigan could have sworn that he saw Pyro's eyes glow red for a moment. “I am not my father!” Pyro's tone now had a hint of anger in it, but it still held the cool edge of control. “Never make that mistake again. I am not as lenient as that man, I don't condone failure in my operations. You have until the end of the day to get me that book. If you can't do that, I suggest you hide, and you hide very well.” The two sat in silence for a few moments, Pyro's blue orbs burning holes into the man sitting across from him. “Well? What are you waiting for?” Pyro snapped suddenly. Radigan didn't waste much time. With a small whimper he jumped up from his seat and ran out of the doors.

Pyro remained in the booth for a few more moments, rubbing his temples in frustration. It had only been a month since he had taken over the Blackfire business. Things were moving a little slower than he had wanted. His father had runs things with a bit of a light hand, he hadn't had the urgency that Pyro had. Pyro was not content to just coast through life, his plans were far reaching, and things needed to move much faster if he was to ever achieve those plans. The new school year was about to start, and once it did Pyro wouldn't have a lot of time to devote to managing the business. He needed to make sure everything was in order before the school year started so that his advisers couldn't screw anything up.

Pyro stood up and walked down the steps of the booth, he glanced at the giant buffoon standing by the booth entrance. Another remnant that he just couldn't shake, the company had decided that a body guard was necessary for whenever Pyro left his house. He hated it wholeheartedly, having a body guard was a sign of weakness, a sign that you needed protection. “You can leave now.” Pyro told the large man. He lifted one hand to silence the protests that were about to come. “My business is concluded, I just want to sit and enjoy a drink now. If I get into any trouble I can quickly escape with this.” Pyro touched his necklace, a light silver chain that connected to a whistle in the shape of a Phoenix feather. The sight seemed to appease the guard and he nodded and made his way out of the establishment.

Finally, he was alone at last. No more business to discuss, no overprotective buffoon looking over his shoulder. With an exasperated sigh Pyro moved over to the bar of the Leaky Cauldron. He took his seat and ordered himself a hot tea. Something hot would allow him to relax a little, plus the day was still young, perhaps he would do some shopping today. Pyro looked at himself in the mirror behind the bar. “The cogs keep turning, ever into the future.” He said to himself, a little mantra he had come up with to remind himself that time kept on turning, leaving those who didn't act behind in the dust.

[Carlin Lennox S7]

A lot of preparations had to be made for Cyn attending Hogwarts next year. Their parents showed significantly less personal interest in getting their youngest daughter ready for the longest seven years of her life but Carlin flatly refused to be so lackadaisical regarding her little sister's future. There were tutors to arrange, particularly for Potions. If Cyn was to become a Slytherin then Carlin refused to have her fail the very class her Head of House taught - and if she was a Ravenclaw (which was the only other acceptable option, in Carlin's mind) then she would be the very epitome of a perfect student. Cyn was exempt from the rivalry that existed between her sister and cousin, obviously, but there was no way she could avoid the idea of being the ideal Lennox. It was deeply ingrained in all of them. Except Jared, of course. The oldest Lennox boy had cut all ties years ago and Carlin stubbornly clung to the lie that she didn't remember her only brother in the slightest. He had died the second he left her behind without a second glance, in her eyes.

"It's a shame she'll start the year after we leave," Damien continued, picking up where she had fallen silent without missing a beat. Sometimes Carlin hated that he was so much the mirror image of her but there were times, like now, when she glanced at his scruffy, unshaven face and realised all over again just how different they were.

"Is it?" She barely spared him a scornful flash of dark brown eyes before turning back to scanning the list of potential tutors for Cyn. "People hate us for what we do. I don't want her caught in the crossfire of that. Stick to seventh years this year, if you can. We're not leaving behind more enemies than she can handle, Damien. I mean it."

"I'll take whoever I care for," Damien warned, his tone heated with irritation. He never had mastered the art of going cold when he was angry, instead wrapping himself up in layers of burning emotion. Carlin had never pretended to care for things that don't interest her but she had always worried that her cousin, the third most important person in her world after her sister and herself, might one day burn himself on his own fierce emotions to the extent that even she won't be able to fix him.

It became so much harder to concentrate after Damien left, still stiff with annoyance. He would calm down soon enough and admit that she was right, that they couldn't leave behind bruised hearts and angered feelings that would inevitably be taken out on Cyn. For all of her older sister's faults, Cyn was still just an innocent kid. She didn't even know what sex was, at least in Carlin's rose-tinted view of her little sister, and she very much had no inclination to indulge in it for a few years yet.

Diagon Alley was not Carlin's ideal place for relaxation, and especially not the Leaky Cauldron, but she was already there since she and Damien had done their Hogwarts shopping that morning. Besides, the other three quarters of the alphabet siblings - Alexander, Bryony and Colin, Damien's older siblings - were currently inhabiting the family house in Wiltshire that Carlin usually spent a portion of the summer in and she honestly had no desire to ever spend more time in their presence than she absolutely had to. Those three were a collection of the most irrational, irritating and overall irrepressible people she had the ultimate displeasure to be related to.

Even in the midst of his anger, Damien was enough of a gentleman to take all of their shopping with him. That observation softened Carlin towards him enough to momentarily consider using the two way mirror that was always stashed in her bag to call him back and make peace with him. She didn't, of course, because that would be tantamount to admitting that perhaps he wasn't the only one who ought to apologise. Carlin Lennox never apologised. She never needed to. What she did need was a glass of decent white wine but she'd take whatever the Leaky Cauldron had in stock, she supposed.

"How poetic," Carlin commented mockingly, flashing perfectly straight, white teeth at the blond sitting at the bar. He was a Slytherin but she couldn't remember ever hauling him in for exceptionally noticeable public bad behaviour during her Prefect duties, and he was too young to have ever been of interest to her personally. "Good afternoon, Blackfire. Ready to go back to school again?"