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Birdwatching

Harry's like a phoenix

This thought struck Wren as she watched Harry Potter face down the Dark Lord Voldemort for the sixth time. Harry was like a Phoenix, rising from the ashes. Strong enough to bear the heaviest loads, and now he rose from the ashes of death to fight for the light again.

Personally, Wren thought she was like a Thestreal. Strong, yes, but unknown to most even though they were strong and could be useful. Before Harry had confronted Voldemort, she had been fighting a Slytherin that she recognized vaguely as having graduated the year before. He had started battling her when she had hit him with an "Expelliarmus" before he could curse a Ravenclaw seventh year. He was lying stunned on the floor now.

She had watched Harry since her first year. At first it was because he was the Boy Who Lived, but after Wren realized that he was actually normal, she just did it because trying to see without being seen was kind of fun.

She was twelve when the Dark Lord returned. She hadn't wanted to believe Harry, but her mother had. Her mother made sure that she knew the basic spells like "Expelliarmus", "Stupefy" and "Protego." Wren had privately decided that, if she was near a battle that would help people if won, she would fight, even if she had to sneak off to do it. No one would tell her that she was too young to help.

She had practiced the spells faithfully (though secretly) when she got back to school. Wren had taken her father's advice, and stayed out of Umbridge's way, so she did not try to join the D.A., though she wanted to. She was only a third year, and she was a little shy about meeting Harry Potter.

She knew something had changed in her fourth year (Harry's sixth). Harry was moodier, and more distant. He was also having special lessons with Dumbledore.

Harry wasn't so normal anymore.

That was the year she had realized that whenever the Final Battle came, Harry would be facing Voldemort in the front lines, and she would be in the background somewhere, fighting a lesser known Death Eater

She didn't envy Harry a bit. She would be a very poor observer if, in four years of watching, she hadn't figured out that Harry hated his fame. She was happy the way she was, and she did not want the public eye on her.

So as Wren watched Voldemort's spell reflect back on him, she smiled to herself, knowing that she was lucky to be a Thestreal, rather than a Phoenix.