She was a Metamorphmagus and this is what she chose to waste her gift on, her hair.
Though she supposed it helped her be an Auror.
"No, I doubt we'll ever agree, But answer me this Nymphadora, this isn't our world. Being an Auror means nothing here...and..."
Her eyes fell upon a homeless man, curled up in a shadowy corner, only shadowy now cause of the lights.
"Would you attack me if I hexed him, a nobody, an idiot muggle from a world without our brand of magic. Would you stop me if I used a particular curse...made him twitch like an unhappy flobberworm before putting him out of his misery"
It was all said with a pleasent almost amused expression on the young witches face.
"Not that I would of course...with the...truce and all. But I wonder?"