Work Text:
A Completely Normal Investigation
The problem began with pink hair.
Specifically, Daphne Greengrass's pink hair.
Bright pink, painfully pink, in fact. The sort of pink visible from orbit, the sort of pink that made anyone do a double take. The sort of pink that was currently attached to her head.
Across from her, Tracey Davis was laughing so hard she could barely breathe.
"It isn't funny." Daphne snapped
"It absolutely is." Tracey responded in between laughs
"It isn't." Daphne denied once more.
"You look like a strawberry." Tracey giggled
Daphne glared.
Or at least attempted to.
The effect was somewhat diminished by the fact that she currently resembled a very angry flamingo.
"This is Potter's fault." Daphne concluded
That much was undeniable. The previous evening Harry had decided to test one of Fred and George's latest inventions. Specifically on his girlfriend. Because Harry Potter occasionally forgot self-preservation existed. According to Harry, the prank was supposed to make her hair temporarily turn silver.
Instead, it had become bright pink.
"Just undo it," Daphne said.
Tracey raised her wand.
"Finite." She cast
A flash of light, and the pink vanished.
Daphne smiled.
Then Tracey started howling with laughter again.
Slowly, Daphne reached for a mirror. She looked at herself and screamed.
Her hair was now bright blue. The colour of a tropical bird, or the sky on a bright summer’s day.
Silence.
Then:
"I am going to kill him."
Five minutes later, Tracey reached the same conclusion every sensible witch would have.
"Get Potter." She spoke
"I was already planning that." Daphne retorted
"No, I mean immediately." She insisted
Daphne glared at her reflection, the blue hair glared back. One stubborn streak had somehow become even brighter, in fact.
"I am aware."
"No, I don't think you are." Tracey giggled
Tracey pointed dramatically at Daphne's head.
"You look like a cursed peacock." The giggling did not stop
Daphne sighed and then reached into her bag.
Tracey frowned.
"What are you doing?"
Daphne pulled out an old sock, Tracey blinked.
"...why do you have a sock?"
"It's Dobby's." Daphne said like it explained everything.
It did not, in fact, answer the question.
"If anything, I now have more questions." Tracey sighed.
"Dobby?"
A loud crack echoed through the dormitory.
The house-elf appeared instantly.
"Dobby is here!"
Tracy nearly jumped out of her chair.
"Merlin's beard!" she shouted
Dobby beamed.
"Mistress Daphy asked for Dobby?"
Tracy pointed.
"There's a house-elf."
"Yes." Daphne smiled
"A house-elf that knows you." Tracey went on
"Yes." Daphne confirmed once more
"A house-elf named Dobby." She deadpanned
"An astute observation." Daphne sarcastically spoke
Tracey looked between them and slowly sat back down.
"I don't even want to know." She finally decided
A wise decision indeed.
Daphne pointed at her hair.
"Dobby, where's Harry?"
Dobby's enormous eyes widened.
"Harry Potter is sleeping!"
"Excellent."
It wasn't excellent, but it was fixable.
"Bring Harry here."
Dobby nodded enthusiastically.
"Dobby understands!"
The house-elf snapped his fingers.
CRACK.
Daphne vanished.
For several seconds the room was silent.
Tracy blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then she looked at the empty space where her friend had been standing.
"...that wasn't Harry."
One moment Daphne was standing in her dormitory, the next she was falling.
Directly onto something warm, something soft.
Something that immediately made a very confused noise.
"Oof."
Daphne froze.
Slowly, very slowly, she looked down.
Harry Potter blinked up at her.
From his bed.
In his dormitory.
Wearing absolutely nothing except a pair of sleep trousers.
For several seconds neither spoke. Harry's brain had not yet fully woken up yet.
Then he frowned.
"Daphne, why the bloody hell are you in my bed?” He asked, wincing at the pain of his undoubtedly bruised stomach.
Daphne pointed upward.
"Dobby."
Harry considered this.
"Ah."
That explained everything. Unfortunately, the explanation did not improve the situation at all.
"Harry, fix my hair."
Harry looked and immediately started laughing.
A terrible decision. Possibly the worst decision of his life.
"Harry." She shouted, hitting him on the shoulder.
"I'm sorry." He said, trying to keep his laughter controlled
"You are not." She accused
"No, I'm really not." He responded, laughing again.
Daphne grabbed a pillow and hit him with it.
Harry wisely raised his wand.
"Right. Hair first. Murder later."
Ten minutes later Harry had mostly fixed the hair problem.
Mostly, sadly there was still one stubborn blue streak. Unfortunately, they never got the chance to address it because someone knocked.
Both froze.
"Harry?" Neville Longbottom's voice sounded.
"I need help with transfiguration."
Harry closed his eyes and Daphne looked toward the door, then back at Harry and then back at the door. The knocking continued.
The knocking continued.
"Harry?"
Panic, absolute panic, pure panic. Never before seen amounts of panic.
Harry pushed Daphne under the blankets.
The door opened and Neville entered.
"Sorry, I just-"
He stopped, and Harry sat bolt upright in bed looking suspiciously guilty.
The blankets appeared to have gained a human-shaped lump.
Neville stared, Harry stared back.
There was silence. Long silence.
Then, the lump moved. Ever so slightly.
Neville's eyes widened and Harry's soul left his body.
"I can explain." He began
Neville immediately held up both hands.
"No." He interrupted
"Please let me explain." Harry tried again
"No." Neville said once more
"Neville.” A single drop of sweat dropped from Harry’s forehead, out of desperation.
"Nope." Neville noped once more
"Neville please." Harry begged
"I don't want to know." Neville stated.
"You absolutely do." Harry tried
"I absolutely do." Neville admitted, grinning
Neville looked at the suspicious blanket lump, then at Harry, then at the suspicious blanket lump again.
He lowered his voice.
"Who is she?"
Harry made a strangled noise as the lump kicked him. Hard.
Neville heard the impact and his eyes widened further.
"OH."
Harry buried his face in his hands.
By lunchtime the rumour had spread through all four houses; Harry Potter had a secret girlfriend.
Neville Longbottom had seen her in Harry's bed. Yet nobody knew who she was.
The mystery consumed Hogwarts instantly. Theories emerged, wild theories, ridiculous theories. A betting pool appeared; in fact, several betting pools appeared. One Ravenclaw created a chart. A Hufflepuff interviewed witnesses. Colin Creevey attempted investigative journalism.
The Daily Prophet would have been proud.
At dinner, Albus Dumbledore received the news and immediately became interested. Very interested.
"Minerva." He said, taking a bite of his roast potatoes.
"No." She responded, not even looking up from her meal.
"I haven't said anything." Dumbledore responded, taking another bite.
Minerva finally looked at him and sighed.
"You have that look."
"What look?" he responded innocently, eyes twinkling.
"The look that causes problems." She deadpanned.
Dumbledore folded his hands.
"A mystery exists." He began
Minerva closed her eyes.
"A teenage mystery." He continued
She rubbed her temples in vain, trying to rid herself of the headache named Albus Dumbledore
"A fascinating mystery." He kept going
"Albus." She stopped him
"We must solve it." He concluded, dramatically.
McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose, sighed deeply and chose to ignore him.
Across the table, Snape looked mildly alarmed, which for Snape was equivalent to screaming.
It made several Hufflepuffs and a singular Ravenclaw faint in fear.
By the next morning, an investigative task force had formed, nobody was entirely sure how. One moment there had been rumours, the next moment Dumbledore had commandeered an unused classroom and declared the establishment of an official inquiry.
A sign had appeared on the door.
THE MYSTERY GIRL TASK FORCE
Hermione was deeply concerned, Ron was deeply invested, Neville wanted desperately to leave.
Dumbledore was having the best week of his year.
"Right," said Hermione. "Let's start with the facts."
Dumbledore nodded gravely.
"Excellent idea."
A chalkboard appeared.
Hermione ignored the fact that Dumbledore had clearly prepared it beforehand.
"What exactly did you see?"
Everyone looked at Neville, who immediately regretted every life decision that had brought him here.
"There was a girl."
Hermione wrote:
CLUE #1: GIRL
Ron stared blankly.
"Brilliant. We've narrowed it down to roughly half the school."
Hermione glared.
"Continue."
Neville swallowed.
"She was under Harry's blankets."
Ron made a strangled noise.
Hermione wrote:
CLUE #2: UNDER BLANKETS
Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully.
"Interesting."
"It isn't interesting," Hermione said. "It's deeply embarrassing."
"Those things are not mutually exclusive." Ron added, he sounded like he’d just seen snape dance in a bikini.
Hermione ignored him.
"Neville. Anything else?"
Neville hesitated.
"There was hair."
The room leaned forward.
"What color?" Ron asked.
"I think blue."
Silence, and then Hermione slowly wrote:
CLUE #3: BLUE HAIR
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.
"Excellent."
Ron frowned.
"How many girls at Hogwarts have blue hair?"
Hermione paused to think, then frowned.
"Actually..."
Another pause.
"No one."
The room went silent.
Dumbledore smiled.
"Now we're getting somewhere."
The investigation expanded rapidly, witnesses were interviewed and timelines were constructed. Several first-years became far too enthusiastic, and at one point Colin Creevey attempted to submit photographs as evidence.
Most were rejected.
The first real breakthrough came from Lavender Brown.
"I saw someone with blue hair yesterday."
Everyone sat upright, paying rapt attention.
"Who?"
Lavender frowned.
"I don't know."
There was a collective groan.
"But it was a Slytherin."
The room froze.
Hermione wrote:
CLUE #4: SLYTHERIN
Ron leaned forward.
"How many Slytherin girls are there?"
Dumbledore started counting and slowly looked up.
"Actually, not that many." He concluded
The second breakthrough surprisingly came from Theodore Nott. entirely by accident of course.
"Blue hair?" he said. "Oh. That was Greengrass."
The room exploded.
"What?"
Theodore blinked.
"Daphne Greengrass, not Astoria."
Dumbledore nearly dropped a lemon drop.
Hermione lunged forward.
"Explain."
Theodore looked confused.
"Her hair turned blue yesterday."
"Why?" Hermione inquired
"No idea." He said, still confused
"Did she say anything?" Hermione interrogated the poor boy
"Mostly threats." Theodore sweat-dropped
Hermione scribbled furiously.
Ron stared at the board, Dumbledore stared at the board, Neville stared at the board.
At the centre of the board was now a large circle.
Inside it were the words:
DAPHNE GREENGRASS
Surrounded by arrows, many arrows, far too many arrows.
Legolas and Hawkeye would’ve been jealous at these arrows.
Hermione stepped back.
"We have a suspect."
Then the entire investigation collapsed, because the evidence made no sense.
Ron pointed at the board.
"Why would Daphne Greengrass be in Harry's bed?"
Nobody had an answer, the question remained.
Why?
Three hours later, the answer arrived in the form of Tracey Davis, who walked past the open classroom door and paused. She looked at the board, at the names, then the arrows and finally she looked at Dumbledore.
Then slowly said:
"...are you trying to figure out who was in Potter's dorm yesterday?"
Hermione immediately knew they were doomed.
"Perhaps," Dumbledore admitted.
Tracy stared, then started laughing. The kind of laughter that suggested physical pain.
"Oh my god."
"Miss Davis?" said Dumbledore.
"You people are insane." She said in between fits of laughter
"Do you know something?" Dumbledore asked calmly (we all know he did not)
Tracy wiped tears from her eyes.
"Oh, I know exactly what happened." She admitted
Every investigator leaned forward.
"What happened?" Ron asked
Tracey grinned.
"Daphne's hair turned blue."
Hermione pointed at the board.
"We know that."
"No, you don't understand." Tracey began
Tracey looked far too entertained.
"Potter did it." She dropped the bomb.
The room fell silent.
Ron blinked.
"Potter turned Daphne's hair blue?"
"Yes." Tracey confirmed
"Why?" he asked, confusion visible on his face.
Tracey shrugged.
"No idea."
That was not particularly helpful.
Hermione frowned.
"How did he even get close enough to do that?"
"Good question." Tracey spoke mysteriously, holding all the cards.
The room grew quiet, it was a good question. Daphne Greengrass was not known for allowing random people into her personal space. Or her social space. Or any space, really.
They all looked thoughtful.
"How close?" Hermione asked.
Tracey considered.
"Close."
"Define close." Hermione prodded for more information
"Close enough to put experimental prank products in her hair." Tracey giggled
The silence became significantly louder, Ron slowly turned toward Hermione.
"Hermione."
"Yes, Ron?
"I think we're missing something." Ron looked at the board once more.
"I agree” Hermione said, walking to the board.
Tracey's grin widened.
"Oh, you're missing loads."
Hermione turned around with narrowed eyes.
"Miss Davis." She seemed strict
"What?" Tracey feigned innocence
"Do you know something?" Hermione was imagining herself as a muggle police officer, holding a lamp up to the person she was interrogating. She silently cast a lumos charm and pointed it at Tracey.
"Maybe." Tracey winced from the light, still trying to keep up the act.
"Miss Davis." Hermione insisted
"Fine." Tracey relented and leaned against the doorframe.
Then casually dropped a bombshell.
"Daphne spent most of yesterday threatening to murder him."
Ron nodded.
"Reasonable."
"But only after making sure he hadn't skipped breakfast."
Ron blinked.
Hermione paused.
Neville choked on his pumpkin juice.
"She what?" Hermione asked.
"Made sure he ate."
"Why?" Hermione almost shouted
Tracey looked at her as though the answer should have been obvious.
"Because she's his girlfriend, duh"
Silence, absolute silence. The kind of silence usually reserved for funerals. Or N.E.W.T. examinations. Or particularly shocking Quidditch upsets.
They stared at Tracey, Dumbledore looked unbearably pleased.
"No," Ron said.
"Yes," said Tracey.
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Ron," said Hermione.
"No..."
"Ron."
"HARRY?"
The word came out somewhere between a squeak and a scream.
"Harry?"
"Yes."
"Harry Potter?"
"There's only one at Hogwarts."
Ron looked personally betrayed.
"He's been secretly dating Daphne Greengrass?"
"Apparently."
"For how long?"
"Several months."
Ron sat down very suddenly, the chair barely survived.
Hermione looked thoughtful, her face flickered through several emotions. Annoyed, then impressed, then annoyed again.
"That's actually quite clever."
"What is?" asked Neville.
"Nobody suspected anything."
Across the room, Dumbledore quietly erased the words MYSTERY GIRL from the chalkboard. Then replaced them with:
CASE CLOSED
Underneath, in much smaller writing, he added: Excellent detective work.
And somewhere else in the castle, completely unaware that their relationship had just been exposed by an amateur detective agency, Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass were enjoying a perfectly normal date.