For the fraction of a second Oliver contemplated denial, then shrugged it off. "Got me," he admitted with a lopsided smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Painful experience taught him that the Death Eaters had spies (or bait!) everywhere and almost instinctively his muscles tensed in anticipation of things getting out of hand. There was no way he would ever hurt a girl, his parents had been pretty adamant in teaching him that up to a point where his sister had been allowed to throw handfuls of mud into his face but he hadn't been allowed to retaliate by pulling on her pig-tails. His sister who was a squib.
Oliver desperately wanted to believe the girl because for the longest time he hadn't talked to anyone who was related to a squib as well. She was probably lying, though, just like he had been. He really shouldn't go around and share that information. He knew that. It was a silly thing to do. Risky.
"My sister is a squib." Oliver admitted softly and quietly cursed himself. Why couldn't he ever keep his mouth shut?