Three different things get called witchcraft and the trials concerned only one of them.
There was folk magic, which existed everywhere: charmers, cunning folk and healers who cured cattle, found lost property, made love charms and lifted curses. This was a common trade, largely tolerated, and it is not what the courts were prosecuting. Villagers went to such people for protection against witchcraft.
There is modern Pagan witchcraft, which is a twentieth century religion and has no connection to any of this except a borrowed name.
And there was the crime the courts tried, which was none of the above. It was a theological construction: a pact with the Devil, the renunciation of baptism, gathering with others in his service, and the working of harm through that power. It was assembled by learned demonologists in the fifteenth century out of older heresy accusations, and it was fitted onto ordinary village suspicion, where a neighbour had been blamed for a dead cow or a sick child for as long as anyone could remember. The fit was the disaster. A local quarrel about a dead cow became, once it entered a court holding this theory, an entry point into a conspiracy with accomplices.
Nobody committed the crime. That is not a soft way of saying the evidence was thin. There was no sect, no pact and no harm worked by any of it.