As time went on and she hid more and more around her home, her thoughts began to change. Oliver grew more and more like his father every single day. Not only in looks, but in mannerisms and behavior. He began to emulate his father's actions, including his unpredictable temper. There was only one incident when he was ten years old where he tried to strike out at his mother in the same manner as his father. One incident that was quickly stopped by a stinging spell to his gut from his mum's wand and a punishment down in the basement with his papa that left enough of an impression on him that he didn't ever raise his hand to her again. She didn't ask Antonin what he did to ensure the incident was never repeated. She didn't want to know. It wasn't exactly a secret that many in their social circle utilized the unforgivable Cruciatus Curse on recalcitrant children. Part of her believed that maybe it was best if Ollie went ahead and understood what that felt like. If he continued to follow in his father's footsteps, he'd become very familiar with the torture curse eventually. A small hope in the back of her mind she didn't dare give voice to was maybe he might even decide to choose a different path.