Witcher at Hogwarts

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"So, what is the truth?" Tonks asked, eyes locked on the man's face despite the tension in the air.

The man, who had been avoiding her gaze until now, finally met her eyes, his expression hardening.

"You've got guts," he said slowly, as though measuring each word.

He turned to the side and pushed open the door behind him.

"One step at a time. If you're brave enough to seek the truth, come in. But if you'd rather save yourself, leave now. I'll even show you the way down the mountain, no spells, no tricks," he added, his voice cold but oddly sincere.

Tonks hesitated for a moment, then clenched her jaw and stepped toward the crypt.

The man's lips curled into a subtle, knowing smile as he moved forward.

Inside, the crypt was nothing like the Tonks had imagined.

The space was surprisingly neat in stark contrast to the grimy, chaotic village above. The room was small but furnished with care. At a tiny table sat a young girl, scribbling with a crayon.

When she noticed Tonks, she waved cheerfully. "Hi!"

The man followed Tonks inside, found a stool, and settled into it.

"I'm Bigby," he said.

"And that's my daughter, Nina."

"Nymphadora Tonks, Auror with the British Ministry of Magic," Tonks responded quickly, his gaze flickering between Bigby and Nina.

Bigby raised an eyebrow. "British Auror, huh? You've come a long way for this."

He leaned back, scratching his unshaven chin.

"Let me guess what those folks up in Oshtin have been saying about us… Something like, 'We attacked their villagers,' right? 'We hurt their kids'? Maybe 'mauled their livestock'?"

Tonks nodded slightly.

"More or less," she muttered.

"Now, what's the real story?"

Bigby's face darkened, and a bitter chuckle escaped him.

"The real story? Oshtin's always been werewolf territory."

Tonks frowned as Bigby continued, his voice low and sharp.

"For generations, werewolves lived in that village. It was a haven—far from cities, where we could be left alone."

He paused, his gaze hardening. "Then the wizards came. Outsiders, settlers looking to 'tame' the wilds. At first, we welcomed them. We even shared our homes, coexisting as best we could."

His voice took on a bitter edge. "But harmony never lasts. Soon enough, when their children fell ill or wild animals attacked their livestock, guess who they blamed? Us. It didn't matter that we'd done nothing. Their suspicion grew, and our peaceful coexistence started to crumble."

Bigby's fists clenched at the memory, his expression grim.

"But the worst part wasn't even the accusations. No, the real trouble began when they found the coal mine."

Tonks listened in silence as Bigby's voice turned cold. "The wizards wanted to exploit it—strip the land for profit. But we weren't interested in that. We liked our peace, our quiet. We didn't want anyone disturbing it."

He glanced at Tonks before continuing, "There were just arguments. Then, one day, everything changed. A wizard's child got infected—and turned into a werewolf. The village exploded in outrage. They said one of us had attacked the boy. But I swear, not a single one of us laid a hand on him."

Bigby's eyes flashed with anger. "The truth, Auror, is that they never wanted to believe us. They needed a villain, and we were it."

Without warning, the wizards launched a sudden attack on the werewolves one night. Caught off guard, many werewolves were killed in the ambush while others were captured. From that moment, the wizards took complete control of Oshtin village.

Their first order of business was to mine the coal, and they enslaved the remaining werewolves to do the hard labor. They offered no pay, just enough food to keep them alive.

Even for werewolves, life under such conditions was unbearable.

Before long, a group of younger werewolves, unable to withstand the harsh treatment, revolted. They broke free from their chains, escaped the mines, and, in a frenzy, attacked any wizard they could find. They slaughtered livestock, burned homes, and unleashed their rage on the village.

Once satisfied with their thirst for vengeance, the surviving werewolves fled to the mountains and established a new settlement far from their captors. But their hatred for the wizards didn't end there.

Occasionally, they would descend from the hills to strike Oshtin, keeping the war between the two groups alive. Since then, wizards and werewolves have been sworn enemies.

Bigby paused, letting out a long sigh, his eyes clouded with the weight of the past.

"And that's how it went—how we ended up here, trapped in this endless cycle of blood and hate."

Tonks exhaled deeply, shaken by the story. She couldn't help but reflect on how greed, prejudice, and fear had driven the two groups to such a brutal and senseless end.

But there was one more thing she needed to know.

"There's something else," Tonks said hesitantly.

"Can you tell me about the Canine people?"

Bigby's expression shifted, discomfort flickering across his face.

"You mean… those things?" he muttered, his tone uneasy.

Tonks nodded. "Yes, the creatures the Warlock created."

Bigby swallowed hard. "Those things are strange… and dangerous," he said, his voice lowering.

"I've only encountered them once, but it was enough. They're not natural."

He paused as if collecting his thoughts, then began recounting his encounter.

"I was young at the time, out hunting alone when I first saw them. At first, they looked almost beautiful, like sprites dancing in the snow. But then I noticed something was off—their faces were too long, their eyes black and empty."

He shuddered at the memory. "They have their language, you know. It sounds like singing at first, but it's twisted—like a mocking, distorted parody of a real song."

The crypt fell silent as Bigby's voice trailed off, save for the faint scratching of Nina's crayon on paper.

"Did they ever try to hurt you?" Tonks asked, her voice soft.

"At first, yes," Bigby answered, his jaw tightening.

"They were controlled by that damned wizard and killed quite a few of our brothers."

His fists clenched as he spoke, bitterness clear in his voice.

"Those creatures were terrifying. Tall, with long limbs—they moved faster and hit harder than any werewolf. At the start, they devastated us. We lost so many."

Bigby's expression darkened further. "But then, something happened in the wizard's village. Chaos broke out, and the Canines… they escaped. They ran into the mountains, screaming their strange songs as they fled. No one's seen them since—they disappeared deep into the forest, into places even we werewolves haven't dared to go."