Witcher at Hogwarts

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"Canines?" Ethan asked, startled.

"I've never heard of such a creature before!"

"Yes," the butler nodded.

"It all began when a Warlock came to our village. He recruited a few villagers, mostly bachelors, who had no one to turn to after their families were attacked by werewolves. The Warlock asked them to volunteer for an experiment and then brought back several large dogs."

"What kind of dogs?" Ethan inquired, leaning in closer.

"Not your average dogs," the butler explained, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"These were huge, with unnervingly long limbs. Their faces... strange, twisted. Unlike normal dogs, they had long, white hair covering their bodies and never barked. No, these creatures were silent. Always silent, watching you with their dark, empty eyes."

"A hunter from the village identified them as Russian Wolfhounds," the butler continued.

"They were bred to help hunters catch wild game."

"What did the Warlock do with them?" Ethan pressed.

The butler's face paled as if recalling a memory he'd long tried to bury.

"I was just a child at the time. My father worked as the castle chef, and I often helped him clean. The Warlock's laboratory was in the basement, and I could occasionally hear horrific screams from beneath the floor."

The butler shuddered, his hands trembling slightly.

"After a while, the screams stopped, and those creatures began to emerge one by one."

"They still resembled dogs, but their bodies had changed... grotesquely. They could stand upright, like humans. I remember seeing them from afar, lining up silently as they left the castle and crept into the forest."

"And when their work was done," he said, voice low, "they returned in the same eerie silence. Unlike werewolves, I never saw them shift back into human form."

"After those... things appeared, the werewolf attacks grew fewer and fewer until they stopped altogether. About two months later, the villagers never saw werewolves again," the butler recalled, his eyes dark.

"Gone? You mean—" Tonks's eyes widened, her voice tinged with shock as she stared at the butler.

"Yes," he said grimly, his face tightening. "The Canines... they hunted the werewolves down, one by one."

Tonks felt a chill crawl up her spine, her mind piecing together what the butler truly meant by "hunted."

"But... that's illegal!" Tonks exclaimed, unable to hold back her outrage.

"Werewolves are still humans! They're victims, too! What was done to them was monstrous!"

"Legal?" the butler chuckled bitterly.

"Girl, the world back then wasn't as orderly as it is now."

"It was the time of the First World War," he said, his voice heavy.

"Chaos ruled everywhere. Even the Ministries of Magic were caught in the turmoil, unable to handle their affairs, let alone care about a remote village like ours. We had no one to protect us. No one to solve our problems. We had to fend for ourselves."

"But it was still wrong," Tonks insisted, her sense of justice flaring up.

"There had to have been another way."

"I know," the butler murmured.

"But back then, things had gotten out of control. The war with the werewolves was brutal. People became desperate. They weren't thinking straight anymore. That's how it all happened."

"And what happened after that?" Ethan asked, bringing the conversation back to the grim tale.

"After the werewolves were gone, the Warlock returned to the castle with his Canines," the butler said.

"He wasn't seen again by the villagers, but I noticed something odd because I worked in the castle. The servants brought in large quantities of fresh, bloody meat every day..." His voice trailed off ominously.

"I believe the fresh meat was meant for the Canines," the butler continued.

"As time passed, the amount of meat brought into the castle grew larger and larger. People began to talk. The werewolf problem had been solved, so why hadn't the Warlock left?"

Before anyone could confront the lord about it, disaster struck. One night, the entire village was awakened by flames. The castle had become a massive torch, lighting up the sky.

"We all saw it—the Canines; they rushed out of the burning castle in packs. Their mouths and claws were dripping with blood. No one dared to stop them as they tore through the village and fled into the night."

"Despite our efforts, the fire consumed the entire castle. Only Master Sapkov survived. The rest of the family, along with the mage, perished. Several charred bodies were pulled from the wreckage."

"My God!" Tonks gasped, covering her mouth.

"What a tragedy."

"After dawn, we organized a search party to track the Canines, but there was no trace of them. It was as if they'd vanished into the mountains and forests."

"For many years, life returned to a strange peace. The coal mines were slowly exhausted, and the village became quiet again. But six months ago, those creatures reappeared, attacking like madmen. This time, they were bolder, storming into the village in broad daylight."

"They slaughtered livestock, and worse, they killed villagers. Twelve people died on the first day of their rampage."

"At first, no one knew how to react. The attacks kept coming. Those monsters were agile—our spells couldn't touch them."

"Ultimately, we had no choice but to abandon large swaths of farmland. We retreated to a smaller area, close to the village houses, and built high walls to defend ourselves from these savage creatures."

"Life became unbearable after that. With no farmland, we couldn't grow food. Most of the livestock were dead. People were hungry, desperate," the butler's voice grew heavy with despair.

"As for hunting?" He shook his head.

"The woods are overrun with those beasts. No one dares venture beyond the walls. They even try to climb the walls to attack the village!"

"I don't understand it!" he said, gritting his teeth.

"Why are these monsters so relentless in their attacks?"

Ethan's brow furrowed. The severity of the situation was apparent. These monsters were no ordinary threat.

Facing a single creature wasn't what concerned him—it was their numbers. Fighting a pack of coordinated monsters would be daunting, even for a witcher.

"I need more details," Ethan said firmly.

"They're nothing like the werewolves," the butler replied.

"The werewolves only attacked us when they needed food, biting one or two people before retreating."

"But the Canines… They enjoyed it. They killed for pleasure."

The butler's eyes widened in terror as he recalled the horror.

"I've seen it—the way they look when they attack. It's as if they're playing some twisted game, toying with us. There's a gleam in their eyes like they're savoring every moment of the hunt."