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[ Shadow Monarch in One Piece].
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Third POV:
Hagrid stood beside the massive corpse, his hands trembling slightly despite their size. His usual warmth was gone, replaced with something raw… something close to fear.
His fingers, each one thick as a sausage, opened and closed at his sides. The knuckles were white. The veins on the backs of his hands stood out against his skin. He had held dragons. Wrestled with trolls. Walked into the Forbidden Forest at midnight without a second thought. But now, standing next to the body of his oldest friend, his hands shook like leaves in autumn.
His face was pale under the beard. The freckles that usually dotted his cheeks seemed faded, almost invisible. His eyes, normally crinkled and warm, were wide and wet. The corners of his mouth pointed down, pulled by a weight that no smile could lift.
Dumbledore remained calm, his posture composed, eyes sharp behind his half-moon glasses as they observed every detail of the fallen creature.
His purple robes hung straight and still, undisturbed by the night air. His long silver beard lay flat against his chest. His hands were clasped behind his back, fingers loosely interlocked. To anyone watching, he looked like a man admiring a garden statue rather than examining a corpse.
But his eyes told a different story. Behind the glasses, behind the calm blue, there was movement. Quick calculations. Rapid assessments. His gaze traveled across the acromantula's body with the precision of a surgeon, noting every wound, every angle, every clue that the forest floor might offer.
For a moment—
Silence.
Hagrid didn't speak. Dumbledore didn't speak. The forest didn't speak. Even the castle in the distance seemed to hold its breath, its warm glowing windows suddenly looking like eyes instead of lights.
Then Dumbledore stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on Hagrid's shoulder.
The hand was old. Thin. The fingers were long and pale, the nails clean and trimmed. But the touch was firm. Grounded. Real. It wasn't the kind of pat you give someone to make them feel better. It was the kind of touch that said I am here. You are not alone.
A grounding presence.
A quiet reassurance.
"You mustn't let fear guide your thoughts, Hagrid," he said softly.
His voice was calm, measured, the same voice he used in the Great Hall during feasts, in his office during meetings, in the corridors when students needed guidance. But underneath the calm, underneath the measured tones, there was something else. Something that sounded almost like worry.
But Hagrid shook his head immediately, his voice rough.
His massive head moved from side to side, the movement heavy and slow. His beard swayed with the motion. His eyes stayed fixed on the dead creature in front of him, not wanting to look, not able to look away.
"I told you… didn't I?"
His voice cracked on the last word. The deep, booming voice that usually filled the Great Hall with laughter had shrunk to something smaller. Something more human.
He turned slightly, his eyes wide, almost desperate.
His whole body turned, not just his head. His boots scraped against the ground. His coat, too small for his frame, pulled tight across his shoulders. He looked at Dumbledore with the expression of a man who had been carrying something heavy for a long time and was finally setting it down.
"I told you something… is wrong."
A breath.
Heavy.
His chest rose and fell. The air that came out of his mouth was warm, visible in the cold night. His shoulders sagged under the weight of his own words.
"What I saw last time… it wasn't a coincidence."
His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. The kind of whisper that came from a place deep inside, a place that didn't see much use. A place reserved for secrets and fears and truths too big to say out loud.
His gaze drifted toward the forest.
Dark.
Endless.
The tree line stretched across the edge of the grounds, a wall of black against the dark blue sky. Beyond it, deeper into the forest, there was nothing but shadow and silence and things that moved when no one was watching.
"…He's really back."
The words came out like a confession.
Quiet. Heavy. Final.
As if saying it out loud made it real. As if keeping it inside had been a way to protect himself, and now that protection was gone.
"…and he's sending threats."
His voice hardened at the end. The softness left. The vulnerability faded. In its place came something harder. Something angrier. The voice of a man who had lost too much and was tired of losing.
---
Dumbledore didn't interrupt.
He simply listened.
Carefully.
Deeply.
His head was tilted slightly to the side, the way it always was when he was paying close attention. His eyes stayed on Hagrid's face, watching the emotions play across it, reading the spaces between the words.
His mind working behind that calm expression, analyzing every possibility.
Every implication.
Then...
"…We can't be certain," he said quietly.
The words were careful. Chosen. Each one placed with the precision of a chess master moving a piece.
A pause.
The silence stretched between them, thin and fragile.
But this time , his tone shifted.
The calm was still there. The measured quality was still there. But underneath, something had changed. A note of agreement. A note of concern. A note of something that sounded almost like fear, though Dumbledore rarely showed fear.
"…However…"
His eyes moved once more toward the forest.
They lingered on the tree line. On the darkness between the trunks. On the spaces where the light didn't reach.
"…I believe you are right about one thing."
Another pause.
He let the words hang in the air. Let them sink in. Let Hagrid feel the weight of them.
"…Hogwarts may no longer be as safe as we once believed."
The air grew colder.
The temperature dropped, or maybe it just felt that way. The hairs on Hagrid's arms stood up. His breath fogged thicker in front of his face.
Even the wind seemed to hesitate.
The breeze that had been blowing gently across the grounds stopped. The leaves on the nearest trees went still. The grass stopped swaying. For a moment, everything was frozen, caught between one breath and the next.
"We must proceed with caution," Dumbledore continued.
His voice was firmer now. Stronger. The voice of a leader, not just a man.
"…and begin preparing our defenses."
His hand squeezed Hagrid's shoulder once, then released. He stepped back, his boots crunching softly on the grass. His eyes swept across the grounds, toward the castle, toward the lake, toward the gates.
Already planning. Already thinking. Already building walls that no one could see.
---
Inside the castle—
The Great Hall remained loud.
Alive.
Unaffected—
For now.
The candles still floated above the tables. The enchanted ceiling still showed the evening sky, dark blue with scattered stars. The food still appeared and disappeared, plates refilling themselves as students reached for more.
Laughter still echoed off the stone walls. Students still leaned across tables to talk to friends. Someone was still singing, badly, and someone else was still telling them to stop.
No one in the Great Hall knew about the body at the edge of the forest. No one knew about the fear in Hagrid's eyes or the worry behind Dumbledore's calm expression. No one knew that something had changed, that the world outside the castle walls had shifted in a way that would eventually reach them.
They ate. They laughed. They lived.
For now.
---
Adam sat across from Cho , eating casually as if the world outside didn't exist.
His fork moved from plate to mouth, plate to mouth, steady and unhurried. He chewed slowly, swallowed, reached for his goblet. His posture was relaxed, his shoulders loose, his back slightly curved. He looked like a student who had never had a worried thought in his life.
Plates clinked.
Students laughed.
Conversations overlapped endlessly.
The noise of the Great Hall washed over him like water over a stone. It touched him, surrounded him, but didn't move him. He sat in the middle of the chaos like an island in a storm, calm and still.
But Cho's attention wasn't fully on her food.
Her fork moved in small, slow motions. She pushed pieces of chicken from one side of her plate to the other. Lifted a piece to her mouth, chewed without tasting, swallowed without noticing. Her eyes were on her plate, but her mind was elsewhere.
Her eyes shifted slightly.
A glance to the left. A glance to the right. A quick look at the students around her, then back to her plate.
Then again.
Another glance. Quicker this time. Less careful.
Until finall....
She spoke.
Her voice was soft, almost lost in the noise of the hall. But Adam heard it. Adam always heard.
"…Are you two… a couple?"
The question came out calm. Casual. The kind of question you ask about the weather or the homework or what time dinner starts.
But her fingers tightened on her fork. Just slightly. Just enough to notice if you were paying attention.
---
Adam paused mid-bite.
His fork stopped halfway to his mouth. A piece of roasted potato balanced on the end, dripping with gravy. He held it there, frozen, while his brain processed the question.
Raised his head slowly.
His eyes lifted from his plate. Moved across the table. Landed on Cho's face. He looked at her for a long moment, studying her expression, reading the small signs that most people missed.
"…Who?"
The word came out simple. Genuine. As if he truly didn't know who she meant.
Cho didn't answer immediately.
She simply glanced past him.
Her eyes moved over his shoulder, across the hall, past the floating candles and the crowded tables, until they found what they were looking for.
---
Adam followed her gaze.
Turned his head—
His neck rotated slowly, his body following a beat later. His eyes swept across the Gryffindor table, past Ron's red hair, past Harry's glasses, past the other students he didn't know.
And saw her.
Hermione Granger.
Sitting at her table.
Staring directly at him.
Unblinking.
Sharp.
Dangerous.
Her fork was in her hand, but it wasn't moving. Her mouth was closed, her jaw tight. Her eyes were locked onto Adam with an intensity that had not wavered since he sat down across from Cho. She hadn't looked away. Not once. Not for a second.
The space between them was filled with students and tables and candles and noise. But none of it mattered. In that moment, there was only the look on her face and the cold fire in her eyes.
---
Adam lifted his hand casually—
His arm rose from his side, elbow bending, fingers spreading. The movement was slow, lazy, almost bored. His palm faced Hermione, fingers slightly curled.
And waved.
A slow, teasing motion.
His fingers wiggled once, twice, three times. Not a big wave. Not an enthusiastic wave. The kind of wave you give to someone across a crowded room when you want them to know you see them and you don't care.
Then turned back.
His head rotated away from Hermione, away from the Gryffindor table, back toward Cho. His expression was light, amused, the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
A wide smile spreading across his face.
"Definitely… no."
The words came out with a small laugh. A puff of air through his nose. He shook his head slightly, as if the idea was ridiculous.
He leaned back slightly.
His weight shifted onto the bench behind him. His arms crossed loosely over his chest. His whole posture screamed relaxation, comfort, ease.
Relaxed.
Amused.
"…But she's damn hot when she's angry."
The words were honest. Too honest. The kind of honest that made people uncomfortable. The kind of honest that should have stayed inside his head.
---
Cho blinked.
Just once.
Her eyelids closed slowly, opened slowly. The movement was deliberate, controlled, like she was giving herself time to process what she had just heard.
Her expression shifted—
Subtle.
Almost invisible.
The corners of her mouth tightened. Her eyebrows lowered just a fraction. A small crease appeared between her brows, there for a second, gone the next.
A hint of discomfort.
Something close to jealousy—
But buried quickly.
Her face smoothed out. The tightness left her mouth. The crease between her brows disappeared. Her expression returned to calm, to neutral, to the polite mask she wore in public.
But buried quickly.
She lowered her gaze.
Her eyes dropped to her plate. To the food she had barely touched. To the fork still in her hand.
"…I see."
The words were flat. Empty. They didn't invite more conversation. Didn't invite explanation. Didn't invite anything.
And returned to eating.
Quietly.
Calmly.
As if nothing had changed.
Her fork moved again. Chicken to mouth. Chew. Swallow. Push potatoes to the other side of the plate. The same motions as before. The same rhythm. But something was different now. Something was missing. The ease was gone. The comfort was gone. In their place was something mechanical, automatic, like a machine performing tasks it didn't understand.
---
Time passed.
The candles burned lower. The noise in the Great Hall began to fade as students finished their meals and pushed back from the tables. Conversations grew shorter. Laughter came less frequently.
Plates emptied.
The roast chicken was gone. The mashed potatoes were gone. The bread rolls had been reduced to crumbs scattered across the white tablecloths. Goblets were drained, some refilled, some left half-full and forgotten.
The noise began to settle slightly as students finished their meals.
Groups formed at the edges of the hall, students gathering to walk to the common rooms together. Some headed for the doors, their footsteps echoing in the growing quiet. Others lingered, not ready to leave, stretching out the last moments of the evening.
---
Cho stood up first.
Her legs unfolded beneath her, pushing her up from the bench. Her robes settled around her, smooth and straight. She didn't look at Adam. Didn't look at her plate. Didn't look at anything in particular.
"…I should go."
Her voice was quiet. Dismissive. The kind of voice you use when you want to end a conversation without being rude.
She turned slightly—
Her body angled away from the table, toward the exit, toward the doors that led out of the Great Hall. Her weight shifted to her back foot, ready to walk away.
But suddenly—
A hand caught hers.
Warm.
Firm.
The fingers wrapped around her wrist, gentle but sure. Not tight enough to hurt. Not loose enough to escape.
Adam.
His hand was warm. Warmer than she expected. The skin was rough in places, calloused from training, from fighting, from things she didn't know about.
"Where?"
His voice was casual—but direct.
Not loud. Not demanding. Just… there. Present. A question that expected an answer.
---
She looked at him.
Her eyes moved from his hand on her wrist to his face. She studied his expression, looking for something, though she wasn't sure what.
Then gently pointed.
Her free hand lifted from her side, her finger extending toward the far end of the Great Hall. Near the large wooden doors, near the exit, near the place where students gathered before leaving.
"…My friends are waiting."
Near the exit—a small group of girls stood together, glancing occasionally in her direction. They were talking among themselves, but their eyes kept drifting toward Cho, toward the Ravenclaw table, toward the boy sitting across from her. Their expressions were curious. Some were smiling. One raised her eyebrows when she saw Cho pointing.
---
Adam followed her gesture.
His head turned. His eyes found the group of girls near the doors. He looked at them for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then his gaze moved back to Cho's face.
Then—
Let go immediately.
His fingers opened. His hand pulled back. The warmth left her wrist as quickly as it had come.
"…Ah."
A small pause.
His head nodded once. A quick, short motion. Understanding. Acceptance.
"…Then… see you later."
His voice was light again. Casual. The same tone he had used when he sat down, when he asked if he could join her, when he waved at Hermione across the hall.
---
Cho smiled.
Soft.
Polite.
The smile didn't reach her eyes. It was the smile you give to acquaintances, to teachers, to people you don't know well enough to be real with. Pretty. Pleasant. Empty.
Then turned—
Her body pivoted away from the table, away from Adam, toward her friends. Her feet carried her across the stone floor, between the benches, past the other students who were still lingering over their meals.
And walked away.
Her steps were steady. Her back was straight. Her dark hair swayed gently with each step. She didn't look back.
---
Adam watched her.
His eyes stayed on her back as she walked across the place Watched her weave between the tables. Until reach her friends. And her friends put their arms around her and lead her toward the doors.
Until she disappeared into the crowd.
Until she was gone.
The doors closed behind her and her friends. The wood swung shut with a soft thud, and Cho Chang was gone, swallowed by the castle, lost in the corridors beyond.
---
The smile faded.
His expression shifted.
The lightness left his face. The amusement drained from his eyes. The casual relaxation in his shoulders tightened into something harder, something colder.
Something colder.
Sharper.
His jaw set. His lips pressed together in a thin line. His eyes, still watching the doors where Cho had disappeared, grew distant. Focused. Empty.
"…Fucking stupid."
___
[ End of Chapter 46].
To Be Continued ...
___
If you want to read more about my works or just to support me then here is my patreon:
Patreon.com/Doflamingo4 .
__
If you liked this one. Cheek also my other stories:
[ Shadow Monarch in One Piece].
Patreon.com/Doflamingo4.
__
Thank you all for reading...
Don't forget power stones... Please!!!