m i s s o l i v e ♥

» history;


For eleven years, Olive was an ordinary girl. She was born to Muggle parents Susan and Jeffrey Hornby on the twenty-fifth of August at the local village hospital. Her mother was a typical housewife who cooked meals and knitted multi-coloured scarves for those cold British winters. Her father kept up the Hornby name of dairy products and eggs for the village by means of the farm that had been in his family for generations, dating right back to his great, great grandfather. Olive never much cared for sewing and mucking out horses, but did enjoy the more enjoyable aspects of Hornby Farm. A usual day began with a fry-up courtesy of Susan with her ear glued to her beloved wireless, listening to the latest tunes.

There were no alcoholic mothers or suicidal fathers in Olive’s youth. In fact, her childhood was probably the best time of her life. Liv could ride a horse before she could walk. She could clamber to the topmost branches of the apple trees to reach the fruit her father couldn’t on his rickety old ladder and knew exactly what to do when one of the cows gave birth to a little calf long before she started school. When she did get to that stage, she – like every other child in the village – went to the local school, which was enjoyable enough. Olive made friends easily and was reasonably happy considering it being school. Even as she got older and progressed through her education, she was always a bright girl. She could have achieved higher marks if she wasn’t always busy chatting a mile a minute and putting her time and effort into painting her nails to perfection rather than doing her homework.

Receiving the letter inviting her to Hogwarts was a complete shock. She had been eating her eggs and bacon one Sunday morning, Bailey Mildred’s songs crackling from the wireless, Mr Hornby reading the daily newspaper and Mrs Hornby busying herself drying plates when a large brown owl swooped in through the open shutter window and landed on the wooden table, knocking over a jug of milk. While Olive sat with her fork halfway to her gaping mouth, Mr Hornby’s immediate reaction was to leap to his feet and flap his newspaper wildly at the creature, which eyed him superiorly and apparently wasn’t at all perturbed. Owls weren’t uncommon in the area but there’d never been one fly in through someone’s window. Mrs Hornby screamed and ran from the room, wailing about the uncleanness of such a thing and demanding her husband get rid of it before she came back.

The owl apparently didn’t want to leave, and it was at that point Olive noticed its leg outstretched with an envelope attached. She untied it hastily, ignoring her father’s orders to leave it while he tried to shoo it away. The moment Olive had retrieved the letter the owl took off out of the same window and disappeared into the clear sky, leaving a very shocked Mr Hornby and his still howling wife. Opening the envelope and fishing out the letter, Liv read with flitting eyes that widened in astonishment. Naturally, her parent’s first assumption was that it was a joke. A well played-out one at that, but a joke nonetheless. Eleven year old Olive was more than happy to accept it as the truth, even after her father called her naïve. Nevertheless, owls continued to appear at the Hornby Farm delivering identical letters. Finally Mr and Mrs Hornby were forced to accept their daughter really was a witch.

In a manic rush, they travelled to London and collected her items from Diagon Alley, including a black and white tuxedo breed kitten called Penguin that grew up with Olive throughout her school years. Liv began her first year at Hogwarts and was placed in Ravenclaw: wit beyond measure is mans greatest treasure. The Sorting Hat admired her intelligence and though it was clear Olive would have trouble concentrating well enough to compete with the students of that house, she had the brains. She had a definite mean streak but would have been trampled on in Slytherin. She wasn’t the most trustworthy of people so Hufflepuff wasn’t a good option. She was brave but in a way she became troublesome, not heroic, so Gryffindor was not a good choice either. Thus she was placed in Ravenclaw, in which Olive settled nicely and has been in ever since.


» family; All Muggles: Susan and Jeffrey Hornby, both forty-seven. She’s the youngest of six, with five older brothers. She likes to count Penguin as family, of course.

» experience; Two-three years.
» sample;

Quote:

How disappointing, Gem thought, she's back on her feet. Sure enough, Rose had sent the ropes attempting to wrap her entire body recoiling until they vanished into wisps from the spell she cast with her own wand. She hauled herself to her feet with what seemed to be some effort, as if she would have preferred to simply lie on the floor for the rest of the night. Those bright blue eyes were no match for Gem's own as Rose stared hard at the two of them. She felt Evan's arm brush her shoulder slightly and knew he was standing next to her, but didn't turn to look. She was determined to stare the Weasley girl out, and like icicles they glared right back, even when, perhaps admitting defeat to Gem's impenetrable glare that might wither flowers, the red curls shook as the the head they were attached to moved. Gem watched her face carefully; a tear was tumbling from those shining blue eyes, dragging a smear of eye make-up with it and threatening to drip off the end of her chin. She was staring downwards; out of shame, perhaps? Gem had little patience for anything at trivial as pity. 'Sadness should be kept to one self,' her mother had always told her when she was younger, during preparations for the many dinner parties held at the Malfoy Manor in which Asteria Malfoy would brush Gem's long, moonbeam blonde hair and perfect make-up to the young girl's face, which soon resembled the porcelain dolls that were lined neatly on the sill of Gem's cushioned windowseat. 'Never express real feeling in the public eye. Never even attempt to prise sympathy or pity from those around you. You must remain...' she looked pointedly at the china dolls, 'Insubstantial.' Gem remained quite silent as these old memories crept into her mind. She wasn't the sort to jeer catty remarks at her opponent's back and although she was somewhat stealthy when it came to hexing her victims - directing the spell as the girl's back was turned was enough to proove such - she played fairly enough. In fact, she returned her wand to a concealed fold in her dress, where it had lurked all along, and waited, almost expectantly, for the girl to perform some pitiful jinx in which Gem would recover almost immediately. So long as she knew that even if Geminiah Malfoy's reaction wasn't an immediate one, she would have to be very careful where she trod after braving such an action. Alas, such evening activities was not to be had, as she was now dragging herself away like an injured dog, limping slightly as she failed to pick up her feet and stride properly. Gem showed no signs of emotion as she watched the girl walk away; no disappointment at the lack of a small duel, perhaps, to pass the time; no sympathy for the Gryffindor Weasley whatsoever; no embarrassment or shame at how nearly half the room were staring at her and Evan. Insubstantial. One girl in particular was coming closest to them now: another redheaded Weasley, supporting the girl Miss Rose had cursed into oblivion, and Gem clung to the hope that Madam Pomfrey would be too tipsy to heal any Weasley-scum tonight.

If she's a bully, isn't Hufflepuff a bad place for her? She's not a good person to confide secrets in, so she's not very trustworthy, and I thought Hufflepuffs were 'just and loyal', something Olive lacks.