She had never been once for violence of any sort. She was always described as a sweet heart, a nice girl, a gentle soul by those that knew her. She had always silently agreed that she was a very amiable person. She never intentionally hurt those around her or tried to cause conflict.
So how it came to be that she was slinging curses left, right, and center into a cluster of Death Eaters was a bit of a mystery to her. Not that she was surprised at being opposed to them or their leader, goodness no, she had been in the DA after all! And when she'd heard about the Battle of Hogwarts she had naturally joined the fleet of witches and wizards flocking to the school to aid the Order of the Phoenix and all those on their side. It was as natural as breathing.
But what had her thinking was how she could fling these spells so fervently, so meaningfully, and not hesitant for a moment to think. She was a Ravenclaw - or she had been, at least - and Ravenclaws analyzed and planned every minute of their lives to the second. They strategized. They studied statistics and odds. They listened to logic and reason. They didn't go on instinct and feelings. That was one reason that, no matter who they did beat, Ravenclaw could never best Gryffindor on the Quidditch Pitch. They played with their heads, but Gryffindors used their guts.
But here she was, all guts and glory and whipping wand and whipping hair and flying spells and it felt so... freeing, exhilarating, amazing, fantastic, invigorating, magnificent, marvelous, breathtaking, intoxicating... Her Ravenclaw brain had supplied so many words, so many adjectives and synonyms and just so many words to describe these feelings. It was so typical and so complicated and so Cho Chang of her to try and label them exactly.
She wanted to be simple, for once in her life, and think of a single word to capture this feeling in her heart, if any. And as she sent a cry of, "Furnunculus!" to a random black-cloaked figure, she found that word as easily as she had the spell.
Good. It felt so... good.
Simple and sweet. She felt a smirk curl into her cheek as she looked into the eyes of her next target. "Alarte Ascendare!"
A rich laugh bubbled from her lips as she watched the man fly into the air to an impossible height and fall straight back to the ground with slightly sickening thunk. Her smirk never faltered as she turned to the next one, another hex bursting from her without a thought. "Expellimellius!"
She watched as his robes caught fire, sending him shrieking from her sights. Her smirk transformed into a grin. Oh yes, this felt good. How had she ever thought that her mind was the thing to trust in battle? Who needed strategy? Who needed logic and statistics? All she needed was her gut, her instinct.
She never even thought as she aimed her wand and sneered the last spell.