Box World.
The day-and-night research into the Werewolf Curse had left Lucien with something like jet lag, his days and nights completely reversed.
He fished a bottle of Ox-Horse Potion from his pocket, pulled out the stopper, and tipped his head back to gulp it down. Lucien rolled his stiff neck, his joints giving a faint crack.
He walked over to the armchair and sat down, picking up the Daily Prophet Dobby had delivered today. The house-elf had been thoughtful enough to place it somewhere conspicuous.
As he unfolded the paper, the bold black headline made Lucien raise an eyebrow:
"...The heroic actions of the Ministry of Magic's Aurors have rescued Muggle victims kidnapped by werewolves... Britain's largest werewolf gathering has been eradicated... Werewolf leader Fenrir Greyback and his subordinates are missing, dead or alive... This operation was ordered by Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge and overseen by Auror Office Director Rufus Scrimgeour..."
Lucien shook his head. A classic moment of journalism's charm: break apart the facts, piece them back together, shuffle the order, and they became something else entirely.
In this era, newspapers could be called a politician's lifeblood.
They were the primary channel through which ordinary people obtained political information and the main battlefield for shaping public opinion.
The rise and fall of a party's polling numbers often closely followed the reporting rhythm of major newspapers. When papers released positive news in a concentrated burst, support rose noticeably; when they exposed negative scandals en masse, support rapidly plummeted.
That was true for both Muggles and wizards.
"Commanding" his subordinates to wipe out Britain's largest werewolf gathering should raise Fudge's approval rating by several points.
Lucien paid little mind to the Ministry of Magic claiming the credit. He turned the page and looked at the next section:
"...Ministry of