Yours, Luna Lovegood

Sketch

Harry Potter lay alone in a bed far larger than any he was used to, in a room far quieter than any he felt comfortable in, regretting altogether the temporal distance between he and Luna.

His life was sacrifice, in a lot of ways. It was who he was, really; it was who he'd been born to be. Because the darkness haunted him, always looming like a dark cloud over even his brightest moments, Harry had accepted the inevitability of distance, of pain. He'd laid his life down so frequently in the last four years, he'd not thought twice about stepping away from everyone he loved for a full year.

It was for Luna, he reminded himself.

Luna wouldn't experience a moment of his absence, and the power of the ward which had protected her since birth wouldn't lapse for ten months while they awaited Harry's seventeenth birthday.

Ten months of danger. Voldemort's network would discover her, realize his affection for her soon enough. They may already know, he thought to himself in the quiet of the master suite. How aware were they of Xenophilius' travels, of his daughter's whereabouts?

Harry felt certain that Voldemort took press seriously. Whether he took The Quibbler seriously was another matter.

The Quibbler.

Harry had suggested, in an offhand sort of way, additional funding for The Quibbler. He'd not heard back from Xenophilius, and he'd not pressed the issue. But the potential captured his imagination.

The Daily Prophet was notoriously biased, in favor (recently, anyway) of Fudge's agenda, and pushing that agenda so aggressively that it had lost all credibility as a neutral authority. Rita Skeeter's sensational (and infuriating) coverage of the Triwizard Tournament was itself a display of less than noble priorities. Harry couldn't help but think that swaying The Daily Prophet must register high among Voldemort's strategic priorities.

Was there a way, Harry wondered, to redeem The Quibbler in the public eye. Xenophilius' own interests, which strayed beyond that of the traditional wizarding household, had eroded confidence in the publication. Speculative inquiries into perhaps nonexistent species didn't do a lot to bolster credibility.

Yet The Quibbler had many advantages, in Harry's mind. It was a free publication, available to the British wizarding community for generations. And only recently had its emphasis turned away from popular issues. If a staff of respected journalists shifted their coverage, and if a number of respected witches and wizards supplemented with relevant editorial content, Harry wondered whether The Daily Prophet might be unseated as the defacto authority on matters of consequence.

The notion, or the silence, or perhaps the itch to do something significant with this stolen time, pressed him out of bed. The candles magically lit throughout the room as soon as his feet touched the floor, and he strayed to a broad writing desk in the corner just beyond the reading nook. A quill and ink sat beside an untouched roll of parchment. He sat, and began to write.

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Xenophilius Lovegood,

An anonymous donor has approached my investment firm with interest in supporting your organization. His dissatisfaction with The Daily Prophet has been mounting of late. Biased coverage and dishonest editorial content have confused and misled all but the most sober and aware, and wizarding communities suffer for it's monopoly on the press. Your organization has remained a consistent presence for generations. Might The Quibbler return to the table, addressing matters of interest to witches and wizards worldwide? A team of established voices, shifting their neutral, unbiased attention to matters of consequence may shift the darkening course of events in this important historical moment. Looking forward to your reply,