Skinny Shaming

It was a challenge to maintain a healthy weight while under the Dursleys roof. But Harry Potter reckoned he was still among the healthiest of his class. He felt great and his self-esteem ranged from average to show-off. After all, his fame could not be the only reason girls have been taking a shine to him lately. He had his mother's bright green eyes behind his circular spectacles, his father's messy black hair, and skin like porcelein.

These growth spurts were the most painful he had so far endured. Nearing five-foot nine inches tall, he had the thin build of his father. During the Quidditch season at Hogwarts, his muscles would grow and harden. The summer months don't offer much in the way of exercise. Going for daily jogs was the best Harry could do.

His worn sneakers pounded the pavement angrily and he pumped his arms, defying the cramp building in his muscles. He kept his face hidden inside his navy hooded sweatshirt, avoiding wary onlookers and focusing solely on anything but his godfather's death. As an unexpected benefit, running helped keep his depression under wraps.

Aunt Petunia scathed him when he returned with his shirt soaked with sweat, "Take a bath this instant!" With Harry's back to her, she added, "Oh, I do hope that smell does not linger."

And with the Dursley restrictions, his body withered back to its skinny self. He heard his aunt spraying an air freshener before he had reached the hallway. He examined his smooth cheeks and the sharpening edge of his jaw. He took as long of a bath as he dared and dressed. With a boney hand, Harry shoveled up his supper ravenously.

Whereas gluttony was a virtue for the Dursleys, his meals were always lacking. His concave stomach flattened, he took away the Dursleys dishes to clean them at the sink. Hermione and Ron were always worried about him when summer rolled around. As was made obvious by their owl-mailed food. Harry was not so glum tonight.

He had Mrs. Weasley's stew waiting for him underneath his bed. Besides, the best way to counteract the Dursleys treatment of him was to show not a hint of weakness. Persevere. The dishes now glistening in the dish rack and the counters impeccable, Harry retreated thankfully to his bedroom. At his desk with his window open to funnel out the delicious aroma, he ate till his stomach might burst and went to sleep in a glorious food coma.

It was only the middle of the summer and Harry thought he might do better this time around.

"Ten pounds away from disappearing!"

Harry didn't know why she was so surprised each summer, but Mrs. Weasley was distressed by his slight frame. Over the weeks, Harry received his O.W.L. results and found out he was made the Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. This meant that he would be allowed to use the prefects special bathroom. He was disappointed that he would not be allowed to become an Auror due to not receiving an O during his Potion's exam.

But many things kept his mind off his career options.

"You don't have to exercise, dear." said Mrs. Weasley.

Harry had just passed her wearing an old baggy pair of Nike sweatpants of Dudley's and his usual jogging jacket.

"It's only to stay healthy, Mrs. Weasley." Harry said in farewell.

He jogged to nearby Ottery St. Catchpole and back, all the while with the distinct impression that he was being watched by Aurors from the Ministry. All the more reason to be in top physical form. He hoped that he was impressing them by his physical exertion. He returned to Ron's bedroom dripping with sweat and flushed skin. He was surprised to find Hermione and him up there - as though they had been waiting for him.

It was now seven o'clock in the morning.

"Where were you?" Hermione asked.

Harry indicated his glistening face, "Jogging." He reached for a mug on Ron's table, "Can I have a sip?"

Ron nodded and Harry chugged at the lemonade. He had avoided the kitchen to dodge another uncomfortable conversation about his weight with Mrs. Weasley. He gave a satisfactory gasp and turned his back to them while unzipping his sweatshirt. He was not wearing a shirt underneath it. He heard one of them gasp.

He wasn't sure if they could see his spine in this light.

"You look like you have an eating disorder!" Hermione told him apprehensively. "Oh, Harry ..."

That was the worst thing anyone said about his appearance, by Harry took into account that it was Hermione who had said it.

He playfully laid his hand over his heart, gazing over his shoulder, "You wound me."

He chuckled awkwardly, drying off the sweat from his torso before changing into a t-shirt.

"I'm afraid I'll break you, you're so thin." Ron agreed with Hermione. "You're all skin and bones. Don't you ever eat?"

"You see me eat triple helpings every night here." Harry answered begrudgingly.

This was precisely what he wanted to avoid downstairs. He sank down onto his bed, massaging his thighs. He could feel the muscles there. Hard and getting stronger.

"Eat a pie!" Ron scoffed.

"I ran a four minute mile." Harry tried to change the subject. "It would've been less had it not been for all those hills -"

"We're getting worried about you, Harry." Hermione said. "You're starting to look unhealthy."

"It's hot outside." Harry ignored her. "But I reckon we can still play two-aside Quidditch later."

"I bet you're not a hundred and forty pounds soaking wet." She commented.

"I'm gonna get some new trainers next summer. These are gonna give me blisters." Harry continued.

"Last resort, it's the hospital!"

"Okay, woah!" Harry held up his hands, glaring. "Damn! Seriously, you guys." He lowered his hands. "I'm okay! I'm sixteen years old. I can take care of myself. I've done it my whole life."

"Well, did you eat any of the stuff we sent you?" Ron asked. "Or did the Dursleys confiscate them? Feed them to their fat son?"

"They had no clue." He implored. "I was careful."

"... That's messed up." Ron narrowed his eyes.

Harry could see from Ron's point of view that this was an unsavory situation, living with the Dursleys. But, it will only be for one more summer. Then Harry will be moving out for good.

"I've told you before that the Dursleys don't starve me." Harry reminded them. "Please. I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"That just says plainly that there is a problem!" Hermione insisted.

Harry gave her a look and Ron sighed. Maybe he was tired of the topic as well. Hermione looked hurt. He was taking his frustration over the shameful comments he gets out on her. Harry knew she was only misguidedly seeing a problem where there was none.

Harry sighed, "If I want advice on how to be healthier, I know whom to go to. Okay?"

That seemed to appease her, though she still looked dismayed. After some silence, Ron clapped his knees.

"Well, I'm gonna go see if breakfast is served." he announced. "Comin'?"

Hermione gave Harry one last sad look before following Ron out the door. Harry would have told her that he was only going to take a bath and then he would come along. But, he was sick of defending the way his body is. He was going to be okay.