[Xenooooo.]
It seemed that the Dark Lord had a problem with a certain newspaper and their anti-war ads. They weren't the sort of ads that Grayson approved of: those were the 'stop the war and let the Death Eaters win' ads of which there were regrettably few. He grinned to himself and slipped on his mask, stepping into the factory where the man was located. It wouldn't be hard to spot him if the descriptions of the guy were anything to go off of.

He slipped on his gloves and walked over to one of the printing presses, muttering a simple spell to place it out of alignment 'accidentally' the next time it was used. Yes, that would do for now. As much as it irritated him to have to leave something like this to such a short frame of time, he'd gotten his orders.

Unfortunately they didn't involve 'maiming-to-kill'. Ah well.

Couldn't win them all.