Witcher at Hogwarts

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Ethan stayed awake through the night, his senses sharp as he kept vigilant watch. Fortunately, nothing unusual occurred, and the hours passed uneventfully.

As dawn broke, a knock on the door startled Tonks awake from her deep sleep. For a brief moment, panic flashed in his mind—was it a monster at the door? But as he sat up, the warm morning light streaming in through the window dispelled his fears, and he sighed in relief.

"I hope you slept well. I was a bit harsh yesterday," Aunt Oni's gentle and apologetic voice called out as she stood outside their door.

"It's fine. We weren't bothered," Tonks replied, her voice still groggy but quick to reassure.

"That's Good to hear. Please get ready—Sir Sapkov has sent someone to escort you," Aunt Oni informed them, her solemn tone making it clear that the day's tasks would be important.

"Right, we'll prepare now," Ethan and Tonks responded in unison.

Tonks quickly rose to get dressed, her eyes flicking over to Ethan every so often. Her cheeks were lightly flushed with embarrassment at the previous night's awkward encounter.

Once ready, she pulled out her enchanted comb, smoothing her bed-tousled hair with a few quick strokes until it gleamed, the magic working effortlessly.

Ethan, already dressed and alert, waited by the door. When both were ready, they entered the tavern hall, where a stranger sat waiting for them. Unlike the scruffy, hard-worn villagers they had grown accustomed to, this man was well-groomed, his mustache meticulously trimmed, and he wore a tailored suit that contrasted sharply with the rustic surroundings.

The man stood as soon as he spotted them.

"Good morning. I'm the Sapkov family butler. Sir Sapkov has sent me to fetch you," he said, extending a hand towards Ethan.

Ethan took the butler's hand, noting his firm grip and impeccable manners. After exchanging a few polite greetings, the butler led them outside, where a sleek carriage waited at the tavern's entrance.

The carriage moved with unexpected grace over the muddy roads, clearly aided by magic to glide smoothly over the rough terrain. Soon, the muddy path gave way to a clean gravel road, and before long, the towering castle loomed ahead, casting its shadow over them.

"We've arrived," the butler announced, hopping swiftly to open a side gate in the outer wall.

They stepped into a barren courtyard devoid of flowers or life. Few sparse, ordinary trees stood sentinel among the stone walkways, the emptiness contrasting with the grand castle that rose beyond.

As they walked the stone path leading to the castle's entrance, Ethan's eyes scanned the area, taking in the muted atmosphere. Inside the castle, the sense of austerity continued.

The decor was plain—furnished with little more than a necessity—and lacked the grandeur usually associated with noble estates. The walls were bare, and the rooms seemed functional rather than opulent.

The butler, sensing their curiosity, explained.

"I apologize. The village's resources are dedicated to maintaining the outer wall's defenses."

"We understand," Tonks said, though her thoughts lingered on what kind of threat would require such rigorous security measures. What sort of creatures roamed beyond the village, powerful enough to warrant this level of preparation?

The castle corridors were lined with portraits, but many were obscured by thick black drapes, adding a further layer of mystery. Ethan's curiosity grew with every step, but the butler stopped before a heavy, imposing black door before he could ask any questions.

"The master is inside. Please... be understanding," the butler said with a hint of unease, casting a nervous glance toward the door.

Ethan exchanged a look with Tonks, both quietly preparing for whatever awaited them on the other side.

"Alright, we understand," Ethan said, nodding to the butler.

Inside the bedroom stood a large bed draped in rich red fabric and a plush, velvety carpet stretched across the floor.

Near the bed was a rocking chair, occupied by an unusually thin young man.

"This is Sir Sapkov," the butler whispered to Ethan.

Both Ethan and Tonks exchanged surprised glances. They hadn't expected the so-called Sir Sapkov to be such a young boy, no older than fifteen.

Sir Sapkov sat in the rocking chair, staring listlessly out the window.

"Master, the Witcher you hired has arrived," the butler softly reminded him.

The boy turned his head slowly, his dark eyes landing on Ethan and Tonks.

Now, Ethan could fully take in the appearance of Sir Sapkov. The boy's skin was ghostly pale like he hadn't seen the sun in years. His thick black hair only seemed to emphasize his sickly complexion. Ethan also noticed a bluish tint to his lips—an ominous sign of poor health.

The boy studied them both with his deep, gleaming eyes.

"You are the witcher I summoned," the boy rasped, his voice still catching from the awkward stage of adolescence.

"Yes," Ethan confirmed, removing a letter from inside his coat and handing it to the boy.

"This is the letter you sent me."

Sir Sapkov examined the letter carefully, a small smile curling at the corner of his lips.

"Yes, it's you. I'm glad you've come," he said, his tone soft but relieved.

"We've come as you requested, Sir Sapkov. Can you tell us more about the monsters you've encountered? I need details to be certain we can exterminate them," Ethan replied.

"Exterminate them?" the boy repeated, surprised.

"No! I don't want them killed! I only ask you to help us leave this place, to escape!" he said, pleading.

Ethan was taken aback. Few nobles willingly gave up their lands, which meant the threat must be dire.

"Master," the butler interjected, "evacuating is not an option. The village leaders have approached us many times. They refuse to abandon the land they've called home for generations. They want these creatures exterminated."

"Exterminated?"

The boy's voice sharpened, and his gentle expression twisted into something fierce.

"Why can't they understand!" he suddenly shouted.

"This isn't some ordinary monster! It's a curse, an eternal one, woven into the very soil! These creatures cannot be killed!"

In anger, the boy kicked the chair he had been sitting on, sending it tumbling across the room. His face contorted with rage as he glared at the butler.

"Haven't they learned enough already? How many heavily armed teams have we sent out, only for them to die? Escaping this place is the only way to survive this curse!" he cried, his voice cracking with desperation.

"The villagers pooled their resources to hire the best hunter, Master," the butler replied quickly, trying to calm him down.

"No! No!" Sir Sapkov screamed hysterically.

"You don't understand! This curse cannot be undone! Staying here means certain death for everyone!"