Dear Diary,
Most people are excited when they leave school. It's been two weeks and already I hate being a grownup. I don't want to have to deal with this. This war. You Know Who. I'm supposed to be nervous about having to make my own way in the world, not about being blown up on the street by a muggle hating psychopath.
This is so much more than teenage angst.
Anyway, things to report. I have a job, as a waitress at the Leaky Cauldron. The parents were not pleased - sample of their reaction; "You think we spent all that money for you to go to a fancy boarding school to end up as a skivvy!" I tried to explain that my training as a Healer doesn't pay until I reach my third year and actually get to touch patients without supervision, but to no avail. I had hoped that now I'm eighteen (hurrah! Now I can legally drink!) that they would listen to me, but whatever.
I wanted to be an Auror, but I didn't get the grades. I can't make a potion to save my life - Slughorn despaired of me but I can't help it. Potions and cooking are so not my forte. I even managed to set tea on fire once. I like to think of it as a unique skill that I have. Of course, you need to be good at potions to Heal, but luckily, in my interview I skilfully passed over that, by flirting with the interviewer. Worked though. Was it Voltaire that said "I am a very moral person but I have no morals"? Either way, that may have been written about me.
Another good thing about not being able to cook is that your flatmate does it for you. Especially if your flatmate is training to be a chef and likes to try out new dishes on their best friend. Last night Jasmine made me this amazing duck and asparagus and something-which-may-or-may-not-have-been marmalade concoction and I felt like I'd died and gone to heaven. Sometimes I think I'm so lucky.
But as much as I love my best mate/private chef, other things are not looking up. Training at St Mungo's is utter shite. I'm only in the hospital three days a week, where I shadow this obnoxious man called Wartig, who is German and although I have nothing against Germans (although my dad does, having fought in the war) I hate Germany because it's the place evil came from. You'd hate him too, first of all, he smells of stale alcohol. Secondly, he's this misogynistic, condescending twat; "I do not expect you to be able to do this first time," he sneered, when I was wrapping bandages over someone's arm, "after all, you are only female." Delightful man, isn't he? But worst of all, he is arrogant and pompous. Although, he is a brilliant Healer with a mind like an encyclopaedia and has an amazing track record. But really, he told me I mispronounce my name wrong, my own name!
Of course, we get on like a house on fire. Not. We argue like it's going out on fashion, he constantly criticises me and challenges me and I have daydreams about hitting him over the head with a frying pan. I'm not exactly little miss passive myself though. Some have called me argumentative to a fault. He calls me the Firecracker. So, in retaliation I call him the Warthog. Surprisingly, he didn't kill me for his lovely new nickname. I have no idea why the head of the teaching hospital paired us together, I'm sure that I would learn so much easily with someone less aggressive and Warthog says I'm giving him grey hairs.
Working as a waitress isn't fun either. I mean, the Leaky Cauldron is a respectable establishment (apparently) and I occasionally serve Hagrid and he's always friendly, but the pay is lousy and men are always feeling me up. What is it about being a waitress? Is the word actually synonymous with easy and available, please treat me like crap? Tom is alright though. Let's me keep my own tips, doesn't harass me like Warthog.
And my love life? It's DOA. I said that to Jasmine the other day and she didn't know what it meant. Purebloods, honestly, they miss out on so much! I'm glad that I'm muggleborn, because I get the best of both worlds, I get to listen to the Rolling Stones and wear jeans and don't have to do the dishes because a simple spell can do it for me. Although there is the possibility that I might be killed any day now. Thinking about it, I'm not that worried, more angry. Who do they think they are, those Death Eaters? How dare they decide who is superior to who? God, it makes my blood boil.
Jasmine has a new boyfriend. He's called Greg and he's muggle and really cute. He works in advertising or something that makes a lot of money. They've not been going out long so they're in the honeymoon bliss part of the relationship where everything they do is a first - first kiss etc. It's nauseating, to be honest, but I'm happy for her. As long as she still cooks me dinner and does all her best mate duties.
Hmmm, nothing else to report. Oh, wait! Saw that dreamy Remus Lupin in that second bookshop on Diagon Alley - he was a couple years ahead of me at Hogwarts and I had such a huge crush on him. He helped me out with Potions homework once, except he was worse than me - well almost. I said hi to him in the shop but I don't think he recognised me. Bummer.
Well, tomorrow is Friday and I'm waitressing ALL DAY. I hope that Smelly Man isn't there again, although he always is. I've been working at the Cauldron for a week and I've already got names for all the regulars. I seriously need a little adventure in my life.
So? What dya think?