Regulus appreciated mature women

The conversation by the tree continued, mainly Aksha talking, while McGonagall's responses were less enthusiastic.

Aksha didn't mind; sometimes she would glance at the moon, sometimes at the Castle, and ask a question whenever something came to mind.

McGonagall's brow furrowed and relaxed intermittently. She glanced at the water several times, only to be called back by Aksha. Her expression remained dignified, but her eyes clearly hinted at wanting her old friend to have some peace and quiet.

Regulus was rarely seen with this expression, and Professor McGonagall looked reluctant but had to agree—it was quite a novel sight.

As Aksha was speaking, her brows suddenly furrowed, the pleasure in her eyes faded, and a blatant look of disgust appeared.

Then, a long, drawn-out roar came from the direction of the Shrieking Shack, rising in pitch as the sound traveled across the grass and was carried by the wind.

Regulus noticed the order of events; Aksha frowned first, before the sound arrived.

She glanced towards the shed, narrowed her eyes, her gaze full of disdain, clicked her tongue, and said with great dissatisfaction, "The headmaster of Little Albus is really confused; he's even taking Werewolf into the school."

Regulus almost burst out laughing inside; he even called out "Little Albus" aloud.

Professor McGonagall Little Minerva" Little Leva," and Dumbledore followed suit, calling her "Little Leva" as well.

Logically, someone should be quite old to be addressed, and given Dumbledore's current appearance, she probably wouldn't be able to address him so naturally unless he was significantly older.

Regulus mentally moved Aksha's age up again, but he still couldn't quite place the exact number.

McGonagall's eyes showed disapproval, and her brows furrowed, but she didn't refute it. She simply reminded him helplessly, "His name is Remus. You taught him."

Aksha waved her hand casually, her wrist rising from the edge of her shawl and then falling back down, her expression languid. "I know, your homework was pretty good."

The distant roar abruptly stopped, replaced by a deeper, more resonant howl.

Her brow furrowed again, and she turned to look at McGonagall, her disdain even more pronounced than before. "But what does this have to do with him howling in the middle of the night?"

McGonagall looked at her, her lips parted slightly, then closed again, she sighed softly, said nothing more, and turned her gaze back to the water.

Regulus watched with amusement.

He certainly looked down on Werewolf, especially their transformed appearance. He could say a few words about these things in front of Dumbledore, but he wouldn't utter a single word in front of Professor McGonagall.

As for Aksha, this was the first time he had heard such inaccurate words from a Hogwarts professor.

Aksha turned her head, noticed the smile in Regulus's eyes, and raised an eyebrow slightly. "You think so too?"

Regulus met her gaze, nodded slightly, his posture carrying a hint of reserve. "I think you're right, Professor."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow, her gaze behind her glasses falling seriously onto his face.

Aksha dislikes Werewolf, and you agree with her?

Regulus caught the professor's gaze out of the corner of his eye, his expression turning sincere, and his tone becoming more serious. "However, Lupin is quite pitiful. Becoming Werewolf wasn't his intention, and he has to suffer like this every month. We, as his classmates, should be more understanding."

McGonagall's expression softened slightly, but her gaze remained fixed on his face, with a hint of reservation.

The second half of the sentence made sense, but she wouldn't pretend she hadn't heard the first half.

Aksha glanced at his serious expression, then at McGonagall, and couldn't help but laugh out loud, "Little Minerva, look at him."

Regulus let her look at him, his hands hanging at his sides, his attitude upright and his face calm.

Aksha tilted her head, her long eyes narrowing slightly as she stared at him, her interest clearly piqued. "You think you're pretty well-behaved, don't you?"

Regulus gave her a slight bow, the courtesy was proper, but his tone was casual. "At least tonight was alright."

Several screams rang out from the water, Peter's scream being particularly shrill, mixed with James's cursing, all coming through in a chaotic mess.

Aksha glanced at the water's surface, then her gaze returned to Regulus, her eyebrows raised and her lips curling into a smirk as she waited for him to continue weaving.

Regulus glanced at McGonagall, then back at Aksha, and said in a kindly reminding tone, "The professor is here."

McGonagall looked at him reproachfully. "Mr. Black."

Aksha laughed even harder, while Regulus shrugged slightly, straightened his posture, and continued to look at the water.

A beam of red light shot out from the tip of James's staff.

In the mirror, he pressed his entire face against the surface, flattening his nose and lips, spreading his cheeks to the sides, and staring at himself through the mirror.

His shoulders were squeezed out of the glasses frame, his hands gripped the edge, and his elbows were bent outward at an angle that didn't belong to a human.

His shoulders were squeezed halfway and stuck, his neck stretched out, his head drooped down against the frame of his glasses, and his open mouth almost reached his chest.

Sirius's reflection also crawled outwards, hands on the ground, head and shoulders sticking out, then half of his body, sliding forward, the back part stretching longer and longer.

Peter turned and ran, retreating to the corner by the bronze door. His foot slipped in the dust, and he sat down, covering his mouth with both hands, his shoulders shaking.

James's Exploding Charm struck the approaching arm, exploding with a bang. A piece of grayish-white limb shattered into fragments, crashing onto the stone slab. The reflection's shoulder tilted to the side, and its head also slammed into the ground.

As soon as he opened his mouth, the pieces on the ground slid along the stone slab, gathered at the broken edge, and grew back into an arm, continuing to stretch forward.

"Hold!"

James glared and cursed, then angrily raised his wand and fired again.

The reflection caused the impact to overturn him, his back bent backward, his neck swaying up and down, and that face that looked just like his still wore a creepy smile.

James felt a chill run down his spine under his gaze, cursed a few times, and chanted the spell faster and faster, his eyes blazing with anger. "Again?!"

Another spell was cast, and as the Spellcasting, the initial shock gradually gave way to that smug grin, and all that remained in the mind was the thought of smashing it to pieces.

Sirius moved to the side, his gaze fixed on the elongated part of his reflection behind him.

He raised his wand and pointed it at his feet. The pebbles rolled together and stretched into a thick iron chain, which burrowed through the ground and entangled the approaching human figure.

The iron rings tightened, pressing the shoulders and arms together and back to the ground. The reflected chest slumped down, the skin bulging out from between the rings, the head narrowed, and the whole body squeezed outward along the gap.

Sirius frowned deeply, twisted his wrist, and the chain tightened further. The human figure inside the chain became increasingly compressed and flattened, eventually slipping out from between the links, its limbs spreading out on the ground again.

The iron chain clattered to the ground, finding nothing.

His gaze followed the reflection backward; the part connecting to the mirror was still there. The farther he climbed, the longer he stretched, and the thinner his body became.

Sirius grabbed James's sleeve, his voice urgent. "Smash the mirror!"

James was cursing vehemently when Sirius spoke. Without a second thought, he raised his wand and cast a Reducto on the mirror.

The white light shone in, causing the mirror to cave in deeply, and the copper clasps on the edge trembled.

The crawling shadow on the ground jerked backward, its two arms, gripping the stone slab, stretched out, leaving long gray marks on its fingers.

Sirius's eyes lit up, and he immediately cast a spell. Before the concave mirror could fully bounce back, it sank deeper, and the reflected head crashed into the mirror, distorting the strange smile on its face.

The two people's spells struck two adjacent mirrors, creating dents that spread outwards side by side.

Peter remained huddled in the corner, his hands covering his mouth, his head bowed even lower. No one greeted him, and he didn't move forward on his own. With each explosion, he would shrink back.

McGonagall gazed at the water, her brow slightly relaxed, and a look of satisfaction appeared in her eyes as she looked at Sirius.

Regulus maintained the mirror's structural integrity, pondering whether he should add something else.

Aksha's attention was still on him.

She looked at him, so different from how he was in class and in the Corridor. He wasn't as aloof or reserved as usual, and he could even engage in conversation with her.

She teased in a lazy tone, "Are you always this well-behaved in front of Little Minerva?"

Regulus turned his head and saw the keen interest reflected in her brown eyes.

He maintained his reserved demeanor, making his tone slightly deliberate. "The professor is very kind to me."

Upon hearing this, the reproach in McGonagall's eyes faded, and her gaze softened, a hint of a smile appearing on her face.

Aksha took in both of their expressions, then looked back at Regulus, raising an eyebrow. She remained silent, simply watching.

Regulus looked at her, his eyes brightening, and suddenly asked, "You know Mr. Nicolas Flamel too?"

"Nicolas? I know him," Aksha replied casually, tilting his head slightly, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "Why are you suddenly asking about him?"

Regulus raised an eyebrow slightly.

Since he wasn't called "Nicolas," the age range could be narrowed down a bit, but there's a nearly 500-year gap between Flamel and Dumbledore, so narrowing it down further would still be too broad.

Addressing someone isn't always based on age; when you're really close, whoever wants to address them is free to do whatever they want, and nobody else can tell you what to do.

After pondering for a long time, I could only guess that he was a few hundred years old; the face in front of me was of no help in estimating his age.

Aksha saw his expression and immediately understood. Her gaze lingered on his face for a moment, the corners of her mouth curved upwards, and the corners of her eyes followed suit.

"You've gone through all this trouble just to ask my age?"

Regulus's gaze was open, and he nodded politely, his tone quite humble. "Just a little curiosity, Professor."

Aksha narrowed her large eyes. "Then just ask me directly."

Regulus tilted his head and asked earnestly, "Will you really tell me if I ask?"

Aksha took a small step forward, the smile still in her eyes, but a hint of threat lurked in her tone. "You ask first."

Regulus's gaze swept across her face, finding it quite amusing.

This professor, who is old enough to call Dumbledore," and whose ancestors for generations of the Black family may have even met her, is still so concerned about her age.

Does looking young mean having a young mindset?

He moved closer to McGonagall, turned his head, and said in a rather innocent tone, "Professor, she insisted that I ask."

McGonagall looked at his earnest accusation and her eyes were full of helplessness. "It was you who was just complaining to Mr. Flamel."

Regulus stood to the side, still polite, while Aksha watched him with narrowed eyes from the other side.

McGonagall's gaze shifted between the two of them, and suddenly a strange thought occurred to her.

Normally in the Castle, Mr. Black was very reserved with the young witches his age, maintaining the airs of Pure-bloods heir better than anyone else. His conversations were often brief and distant, so much so that even she could see it.

I felt very comfortable talking to Aksha tonight, teasing her back and forth; I was not only comfortable, but also very happy.

He seemed to have a particular fondness for mature women.