Witcher at Hogwarts

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"Where did they go?" Tonks asked.

"I don't know," Bigby said, shaking his head.

"They fled into the mountains and didn't return for long. No one knew where they went."

Bigby paused, a shiver running through him as he recalled, "It was only a few months ago that they returned—more feral than ever."

"There are more now, too. You can tell they've been breeding while they were gone. And the new ones? They're even wilder than before."

He spat on the ground, his voice tinged with disgust.

"But those beasts don't seem interested in us werewolves. No, they're fixated on humans. Hmph, they're reaping what they sowed!"

Suddenly, Bigby remembered his daughter. His eyes darted to Nina, who had paused her painting and was now watching him, curious.

"Nina, don't you dare imitate me!" Bigby warned.

Nina stuck out her tongue playfully, making a face. Seeing this, Tonks couldn't help but relax. Even werewolves, she thought, had similarities to wizards.

Bigby stood up and glanced outside. The sky had darkened. He looked between Tonks and Nina before settling his gaze.

"If I let you out of the village now, it's a death sentence. You can stay here tonight. Sleep with Nina," Bigby offered.

"Oh, that's great!" Nina cheered, jumping off her chair and hugging Tonks' legs.

Tonks smiled, her tension easing.

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The Cave

The air reeked of decay. Body parts lay strewn across the cave floor, their foul stench filling the air.

The only part of the cave not covered in filth was a patch of ground layered with straw and animal hides, resembling a beast's den.

Ethan's attention sharpened when his Witcher pendant began to vibrate.

Magic? Here? His curiosity piqued. He searched the cave more thoroughly, moving with care.

Soon, he found the source of the vibrations. Approaching a section of the rock wall, Ethan gently pressed his fingers against it. With a swift motion, he pulled out Nehaleni's Eye and placed it on the surface.

The rock wall hissed and sizzled, revealing a narrow tunnel behind it.

Ethan frowned, curiosity deepening. This was unmistakably a canine's den. But there was no way a canine could use magic.

A hidden tunnel concealed by magic—he couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder. He took a few cautious steps forward and examined the dark passage behind the enchanted wall.

The tunnel sloped downwards, its surface unnervingly smooth, almost as if designed to make him slide down quickly. The shape reminded him of a chute, beckoning him forward.

Ethan hesitated. Was this a trap? The possibility of no return gnawed at him. But with no other clues in sight, he clenched his jaw and decided to go down.

Sliding down the tunnel's slick stone, Ethan picked up speed and soon landed on solid ground.

The cat potion's effects sharpened his vision, allowing him to inspect his surroundings carefully. He found himself in a stone chamber, its walls adorned with crude petroglyphs.

The carvings appeared to have been gouged out with claws, rough and jagged. They depicted figures—creatures with ears and tails—kneeling in reverence before a towering tree.

Ethan's brow furrowed as he studied the mural, unsure of its meaning.

A faint, rhythmic sound broke his focus—breathing. It came from a shadowy corner of the room, growing louder and closer.

Instinct kicked in. Ethan whipped out his blade—the Sword of the Lady of the Lake—and swung behind him just as a pale figure darted overhead.

The creature landed silently on the ground in front of him.

It was a canine, just as the housekeeper had described. Its snow-white fur bristled under the dim light, its limbs grotesquely long, with an unnaturally elongated snout filled with sharp fangs. Drool dripped from its maw, and its eyes—entirely black—glimmered like two voids, ready to pull one into an abyss.

The canine lunged.

Ethan leaped back, narrowly avoiding its vicious attack. He flipped over the creature in a fluid motion and, without hesitation, drove his sword downward with all his strength. The blade pierced its body, skewering it to the ground.

"Ow!"

The canine howled, a chilling sound that echoed off the stone walls.

Though pinned, the beast thrashed wildly. Its claws flailed behind it, desperately trying to reach Ethan. Despite the mortal wound, it struggled like the pain had been dulled or didn't care.

Ethan's eyes narrowed. The creature's resilience was unsettling.

With a decisive twist of his blade, he sliced diagonally through the canine's torso, nearly cleaving it in two.

A foul, thick blood gushed onto the stone floor, and the creature let out one final shudder before collapsing.

Its unnaturally long snout gaped open, then fell still. The once-twitching body lay lifeless, a deep gash running from its stomach to its shoulders.

But Ethan didn't relax. He crouched down, studying the corpse carefully, his hands now slick with black blood. He had his suspicions about the canines, and this one's behavior only reinforced his theory.

As he continued to examine the body, his grim expression darkened. His fears were slowly being confirmed.