All About the Augurey
An original editorial by Sharon
This was a particularly interesting topic, which surprisingly took a great deal of
self-reflection. My first thought was "my Chihuahuas!" They are small enough to be
easily transported on the school train, exceptionally loving and loyal, and they would
act as particularly efficient burglar alarms if anyone tried to have a poke around my
belongings. My Chihuahuas aren't of the magical variety, however, and I don't
think the house-elves, despite their inspiring work ethic, would appreciate cleaning up after
Next, my mind seemed to shout, "Now wait a moment! Why should 'creatures' have all
the fun?" What of all the exciting, magical plants that we've encountered over the last five
school-years? Surely these plants (some of which are powerfully dangerous, some of which are
beautiful, and all of which are absolutely unique) would act as useful companions as well. Think of Neville's mimbulus Mimbletonia, which seems to bring him a great deal of joy and comfort. The stinksap alone would be worth it. And, as Neville admits at one point, there are quite a lot
of other things it can do. Wouldn't it be a lot of fun to discover what those are? Actually, now I'm getting mental images about what some of those "things" might be and how they might
affect my sleep patterns. There goes that bright idea...
I think I have to settle on the Augurey, or Irish Phoenix. According to the
HP-Lexicon, the Augurey is a "thin and mournful-looking bird somewhat resembling a vulture."
Don't let its appearance get you down. Like the thestral, it was badly misjudged for ages.
For example,"Its distinctive cry was once thought to be a death omen, but it is now known that
the Augurey's cry foretells rain." The Augurey flies only in heavy rain and makes its nest in
brambles and thorns. I might be a sap, but I take great comfort in this. Despite its mournful
appearance, I find this bird to be wonderfully optimistic, a great example for how we should keep our chins up and stay on taskwhen hardshipscome our way. Plus, when the owls are being buffeted this way and that in a storm, my mail would arrive precisely on schedule. (I of course would never tease the school owls about this, since I would obviously require their services during balmier weather.)