I hate popular people.
Not because they're popular and I'm not – that, I'm perfectly fine with. But the way they chose to take advantage of their popularity makes them so terribly unappealing.
My name is Nymphadora Tonks, 22 years old, former resident of Hufflepuff house at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft of Wizardry, dead clumsy, babbler, sporting bright pink hair.
I was quite friendless at school, and even though I was almost considered the class clown, I was still a very shy person. This led to a lot more observing rather than contributing. I watched people. I watched the teachers, I watched the caretaker's cat, I watched the students. I picked up on all of their habits and behaviors. Most of all, I learned to loath the popular group.
As I said, it's not because I was a total loser whose hair color tended to change every other day depending on my mood, but more because of how the popularity changed perfectly normal people into perfect skanks.
Say you were an average teenage girl. Well, many of us are, so you'll probably understand what I'm about to say. You're a normal girl, you've got a couple of close friends, you worship the cute boys from afar (but never let them know this, of course) and you spend your days at Hogsmeade at The Three Broomsticks and Honeydukes. Now, picture this; all of a sudden, people like you and want to hang out with you. And these people are the popular crowd, the cool crown, the group of beautiful people. Obviously, you look at yourself in a full-length mirror and look at your out of style clothes and your plain, make-up free face and change it all to ensure that you can be just like them. To fit in. And then you become just like them – shallow, beautiful, loaded with foundation and nice clothes, slutty (for some of them…or maybe for most of them…) - and that's that. You'll go through boys like water and shop at clothing stores all the time and watch your waistline.
I may seem very criticizing, but it's the truth. At least that's how it worked at Hogwarts. Lord, how glad am I that I'm out of there. Don't get me wrong – I did like school – but the peer pressure was extremely persistent.
But, hey, I'm out of there, and now I'm better than they are. I save lives. Being an Auror is a very dangerous job, and I know that none of those petty girls would want to be one in fear that they'll break a nail. Sheesh. I don't like breaking nails much myself, but I won't freak out over it or give up my dream job. Besides, I could just grow it back. That's because I'm a metamorphmagus. For those who don't know what that is, it means I can change my appearance at will. Hair color, eye color, nose shape, height, weight, you name it. Another reason why being an Auror is a perfect job for me – in an ambush, I could just blend into my surroundings if I wanted to. Or look like someone else.
The fact that I'm a metamorphagus was one of the reasons why I was a social outcast at school. Instead of ogling at my abilities like some people have (mostly grandmothers), they run away from me like it's a contagious disease. Personally, I think it's a pretty cool gift. Weirdos.
Then there's the Order of the Phoenix. The Order is a secret organization founded by Albus Dumbledore (coolest old man EVER) during the first wizarding war. Basically, it's an organization against Voldemort. Oh, go ahead, cringe your face off. You know, being afraid of his name (which isn't all that scary, if you think about it. Voldemort. What's so scary about that? Sounds kinda funny, actually) only adds to his power. I've met loads of cool people during my work with the Order, and it's really great to know that I'm contributing to the downfall of Voldemort. Brings up the good ol' confidence.
Oh, and don't call me Nymphadora; I hate that name. Who wants to be called a nymph? Even with the "dora" at the end, it's still terrible. I don't know why my parents would even THINK about that name. It's so old fashioned, like my mother's evil family. Good thing she's not like them, at least. My dad's muggleborn, so I don't have to worry about having Voldemort's supporters coming over for Thanksgiving dinner. Well, the Blacks don't come anyways. They hate us. More's the good for us! Anyways, I prefer when people call me Tonks. Sorry, let me rephrase that. CALL ME NYMPHADORA AND I WILL UNLEASH MY HORROR UPON YOU.
And now I'm talking to myself. I had better go do something to busy up my mind or I'm going to be heading for an asylum sometime soon. I get very off topic, VERY often. Everyone always gets confused around me since I go from one thing to another. Kind of annoying, really.
Well, Molly's invited me for dinner, so I had best not be late. She's been inviting me over a lot lately…Something tells me it's got to do with that girl Bill's marrying, Fleur. She looks like one of the popular kids…I'll just stay away from her, shall I?
Author's Note: I'm back again! Nothing's mine except the plot (although some of that is JKR's too)… Yes, the chapter is boring. Yes, nothing happens. Yes, it WILL get better. Please review :)