This story is dedicated to all the people who have turned their teacher's wig blue.
Harry Potter sat in his fourth grade class, distractedly trying to dodge sharp pokes from Dudley's pen. Dudley, his six chins wobbling sickeningly, had his piggy eyes determinedly fixed on the back of Harry's neck. As Harry tried to dodge a particularly hard jab, Harry toppled out of his seat.
"Boy!" barked the sharp Mrs. Bohobbes. Mildred Bohobbes, a beefy, repulsive woman, could have been Uncle Vernon's twin, though she did'nt have quite a spectacular moustache. Vein pulsing in her temple, she advanced on Harry. Harry hastily scrambled up. "Hold out your hand!" Mrs. Bohobbes growled. Harry held out his shaking hand. Mrs. Bohobbes then left a stinging mark on Harry's hand. Harry felt anger bubbling at the pit of his stomach. he gasped. Mrs Bohobbes' wig was blue.
The class started giggling. Then, the class erupted into a roar of laughter until one student pointed at a mirror. Mrs. Bohobbes took one glance at her reflection, and she let out a cry of shock. "It was Harry!" one student shouted automatically. He summed as much, but-
But how had he done it?