Poison Pen

Chapter 1: Dear Editor

"Right, thanks Lord Charles. So who do you think wrote this?" She asked.

Lord Charles shrugged. "Twist isn't a pureblood name, so it was probably a muggle-born or a half-blood with muggle ties."

'Idiot.' Emily rolled her eyes. She grinned to herself, 'then again maybe he's right, most purebloods don't seem to be able to think for themselves and few know their Dickens.' Walking back to her desk, she tapped the letter against the desktop thoughtfully. 'However, I know just the person that may want to see this.'

~~

Xeno Lovegood was busy working on his latest fact finding results on the sexual exploits of the Crumple Horned Snorkack, when there was a knock on his office door.

"Oh? Why good day Miss Anderson," Zeno said as he ushered the brunette reporter into his office. "How may I help you?"

"I have a letter that Lord Charles was reluctant to print and thought you might like to see it?"

Now Xeno Lovegood may appear eccentric to many, but the one thing he was good at was knowing a good story when he saw one. One of the reasons he started the Quibbler was to be able to print the truth in its many forms as well as to be able to say what he wanted to without censorship.

As he read the letter, he lifted one eyebrow, then the other. 'My, oh my,' he thought. 'This will set the kneazle among the puffskeins!'

"So the Prophet was asked the hard questions and reneged on their responsibility to the public," he chuckled.

Emily Anderson grinned. "I thought you might see it my way."

~~

Harry Potter was pissed with the Wizarding World in general and Dumbledore in particular. The headmaster, in his infinite wisdom, had decided that Harry would be safer with his relatives yet again this year.

'And let's not forget good old Fudge, who refused to believe Voldemort was back. Yeah, right,' Harry thought as he glared at his locked bedroom door. It was, of course, locked on the outside with him inside. 'Then Dumbledore decided that it wasn't safe for me to get the news and canceled my subscription to the Prophet. Way to go, Dumbledore! Let's keep the Golden Boy ignorant! It's not as if I need to know what's going on. After all, it's not as if I have a Dark Wanker out there who wants to kill me.'

A slow, evil grin appeared on Harry's face. Too bad the old arse hadn't realized he'd had found a way around all the restrictions. Before he left Hogwarts, the Golden Boy of Gryffindor pulled a tactic worthy of a Slytherin. He asked for help from the one being in Hogwarts that was loyal to him alone – Dobby. The house elf, now secretly bonded with him, would do anything to help his most favourite hero and master.

So this summer, when Harry wasn't working as a house elf himself, Dobby made sure that all of Harry's personal needs were met without the Ministry or Dumbledore finding out. It seemed that house elf magic was under the MoM's radar and not restricted by any wards.

When Dobby had used the over charm in Harry's second year, he'd made it mimic Harry's magical signature, thus laying fault on Harry for the deed. Now however, he was masking the magic he used at Privet Drive for which Harry was eternally thankful. Harry hadn't missed a meal since he left Hogwarts and Dobby helped with his many chores around the house as well. His relatives weren't even aware of Dobby's presence, much to Harry's relief.

Harry now had a way to get the news and to communicate when he chose. So what if he was a semi-prisoner living in one room, if one could call it living, in the same house with three very magic-phobic muggles. With Dobby's help, Harry was able to come and go as he pleased and no one, magical or muggle, was the wiser.