OLIVE FOUND HERSELF COMFORTABLY SEATED next to Neville, her soft head gently resting on the strong curve of his shoulder. As she did so, she was deeply engrossed in reading her all-time favorite book, 'Little Woman'. This book had a special place in her heart, not just for its intriguing narrative, but also because it was a cherished gift from Hermione, back in their second year. The book, with its worn-out cover and dog-eared pages, was a testament to the countless times she had read and re-read it, each time discovering something new and falling in love with it all over again.

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"Hey, Hermione?" Olive ventured, her voice slightly hesitant as she took a seat next to the studious girl at one of the many tables scattered throughout the Gryffindor common room.

Hermione looked up, her attention momentarily torn away from the multitude of books that were strewn haphazardly across the table in front of her. "Yes?" She queried, her brow furrowing slightly as she took in Olive's somewhat contemplative expression.

"You're a Muggle-Born, right?" Olive asked, her tone laced with genuine curiosity. Hermione nodded in affirmation, her bushy brown hair bouncing slightly with the movement. "I was wondering," Olive began, her voice soft, "if you might have any books I could possibly borrow. You see, my father, he got me a few Muggle books over the summer, and I've found myself truly falling head over heels in love with them."

A broad smile spread across Hermione's face, lighting up her features. "Of course!" She exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement. "I can owl my parents to send some." Her words made Olive sigh in relief, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

Hermione's eyes twinkled with anticipation as she asked, "What kind of books do you like?"

"Anything with strong woman characters," Olive responded without hesitation. "I don't want any cliché love stories. And definitely no Horror novels. They absolutely terrify me." The two girls shared a light-hearted chuckle at this, their laughter echoing around the room.

Hermione paused for a moment, her eyes distant as she thought. Then, a flash of understanding crossed her features. "I think," she announced, a triumphant smile gracing her lips, "I have just the perfect one."

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"Little Women, again?" Dean couldn't hide the amusement in his voice as he, alongside Fred and George, took their customary seats opposite her and Neville at the Gryffindor table.

Olive, engrossed in her book, looked up and her face lit up with a radiant smile. "Yep! You know it's my absolute favorite." She clutched the book tighter, a clear indication of her fondness for it.

"Yes, we know," Fred retorted in a playful groan, his mind flooded with countless memories of all the times Olive would passionately ramble on about her adoration for Jo March. He remembered her heartfelt talks about how she was moved to tears by Beth's death and her vehement belief that Laurie and Jo were destined to be together, a couple written in the stars.

"Hey! Just because you don't share my love for reading, doesn't mean I can't indulge in it." Olive pouted, her expression a mix of mock indignation and mirth.

"He's been sighted! He's been sighted!" Seamus's voice made Olive jump, as he slammed a newspaper in front of her.

"Who?" Ron questioned as he and Harry ran over, while Hermione scooted over.

"Sirius Black!" Seamus told the boy as everyone crowded around the newspaper.

"Dufftown?" Hermione asked as she read the article. "That's not far from here."

"You don't think he'd come to Hogwarts, do you?" Neville questioned while Olive stared at the newspaper.

"With dementors at every entrance?" A boy asked.

"Dementors?" Semus scoffed lightly. "He's already slipped past them once, hasn't he? Who's to say he won't do it again?"

"That's right." A boy nodded. "Black could be anywhere." Olive shook her head, abruptly standing before quickly making her way out of Great Hall, heading straight to the Common Room.

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In the quiet serenity of the evening, the voice of Dean Thomas permeated through Olive's door, breaking the silence. "Are you alright, Liv?" he asked, a layer of worry coating his words. Olive, however, chose to remain silent, clinging to the hope that Dean would assume she was in the land of dreams and leave her be. But her theory was proven to be nothing more than a futile attempt when the door creaked open, and Dean's tall silhouette appeared in the soft glow of the doorway. "You should know the sleeping trick doesn't fool me," he said with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"I was hoping this time it would," Olive retorted lightly, shrugging from her place on her bed. She was curled into a ball, her petite frame dwarfed by the large bed, holding one of the many stuffed animals she owned. Each of these stuffed companions was a testament to a memory of a time spent with either friends or family, a keepsake of laughter, joy, and even tears.

"What's wrong?" Dean questioned, his voice filled with palpable concern as he slowly crossed the room. With each step, his worry grew, as he sat on the edge of her bed. Olive was never like this, not even when George had promised her a lollipop and forgot. "Come on, Liv. Talk to me." he urged her gently.

"I can't," Olive's voice was small, almost a whisper, as she held the stuffed animal tighter against her. "You wouldn't look at me the same," she added, her voice trembling slightly.

"Of course I would, Olive," Dean chuckled lightly, attempting to lighten the somber atmosphere. "You're one of my closest friends. Nothing, absolutely nothing, can change that."

Olive looked at Dean, her eyes filled with uncertainty and fear. "Promise?" she asked, her voice barely audible. The boy nodded, watching as Olive slowly sat up, resting her back against her headboard. Dean held out his pinky, Olive linking her pinky with his in a silent vow. He then joined her, sitting next to her against her headboard. "My name is Olive Volan Lupin," she started, her voice firmer now.

Dean's eyebrows furrowed, unable to predict where Olive was going with her words. "But my real name is Olive Volan Black-Lupin," she confessed, her gaze fixed on her lap while she played with her fingers nervously. "Sirius Black is my father."

"But..." Dean trailed off, struggling to process the unexpected information. "You said Professor Lupin is your father."

"He is," Olive nodded, her eyes never leaving her hands. "Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, my fathers, adopted me when I was a baby," Olive told Dean, her gaze finally meeting his, waiting for him to get up and walk out the door. But he didn't; instead, he scooted closer and wrapped a comforting arm around Olive's shoulder, surprising her.

"You thought I would look at you differently because your father is a murderous psycho?" Dean questioned, his voice soft, making Olive nod softly. "You're not your father, Liv. You are the nicest person I've ever met, I don't think you could hurt a fly."

Olive only smiled softly, feeling the warmth spread through her at Dean's kind words. She softly cuddled into Dean's side, seeking comfort in his presence. "You're the best, Dean."

"I know," Dean replied, his voice full of mirth. Olive scoffed lightly and playfully slapped her friend's chest. "Ow! Why are your fingers so bony!" Dean exclaimed, his face contorting in mock pain. Olive's soft laughter filled the room as Dean rubbed where she had hit him. "So, are you going to tell the others?"

"Tell us what?" The two friends jumped, their eyes darting to the doorway of Olive's dorm. There stood Seamus and Neville, their faces filled with inquisitive looks, making Olive's heart skip a beat.

"Nothing important," Olive shook her head quickly, trying to dismiss the situation. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest, fear creeping back in.

"You know, we're getting real tired of you guys keeping secrets," Seamus shook his head, a hint of annoyance in his voice. Neville, on the other hand, seemed more understanding, as he walked over to the bed.

"Do not include me in that," Neville defended himself, shaking his head as he sat on the bed. His laid-back demeanor was a stark contrast to Seamus' agitation. "I think having secrets is fine, as long as they're not hurtful."

Seamus scoffed, "Well, I'm getting real tired of you guys having secrets."

"Well maybe if you didn't go blabbing to everyone, they would tell you," Neville muttered under his breath, causing Dean and Olive to burst into laughter while Seamus stared at him, taken aback.

"What did you say?" Seamus questioned, taking a step towards Neville, his eyes narrowed at him.

Neville shrugged nonchalantly as he sat up, "Nothing important." Olive covered her mouth, muffling her giggles. The tension in the room eased, replaced with laughter and light-hearted banter.

"No, come on, tell me what you said," Seamus prodded, but Neville remained steadfast, shaking his head. "Neville..." The Irish boy warned, the playful tone in his voice belying his stern words.

Neville was quick to respond, "Seamus." Neville's eyes widened as Seamus lunged at him, both of them toppling back on the bed.

"Tell me what you said!" Seamus grunted as the two boys wrestled, their laughter filling the room.

"Never!" Neville yelled, his voice filled with mirth as he tried to get his friend off of him. "Get off me you twat!"

"Not until you tell me what you said!" Olive gasped as the two boys tumbled off the bed. Seamus hissed as his head smacked the ground, while Neville groaned as he landed on top of Seamus. "Get off," Seamus groaned as he pushed Neville off him.

"No!" Dean and Olive exclaimed, their eyes widening as they watched Neville hit Olive's side table, a vase teetering on the edge. "This is exactly why I can't have nice things!" Olive yelled exasperatedly as she got out of her bed, stepping over the two boys who continued to groan in pain.

Olive grabbed her wand, pointing it to the broken glass, "Reparo." Olive let out a sigh of relief as the glass pieces bonded together, forming the vase once again. "Get up, we're taking you to Madam Pomfrey," Olive decided, helping Neville up while Dean helped a still groaning Seamus. "What have I told you guys about wrestling in my room?"

"Sorry, Olive," The two boys muttered, looking genuinely apologetic. The group of four made their way to the infirmary, hoping to not get into any more trouble for the night.