As soon as Harry stepped onto Hogsmeade Station, he felt an enormous wave of fuzzy relief seep into him, like a mug of calming hot chocolate. He was back in the magical world. There were the carriages, pulled along by magic. There was the thick dark forest, the gravel path lit by floating lamps dotted around the edges. There was Ron, waving a hand in front of his face-

"You OK mate?"

Harry's eyes snapped open, the wide, silly smile disappearing from his face instantly.

"Uh, yeah, um, I'm fine."

Ron nodded and the two began to struggle through the crowd towards the carriages, hauling their trunks along with them. Somewhere to his right, Harry could hear Hagrid, his loud voice carrying over the students milling around on the station ("Firs' years over here, Firs' years!"). He could never tell Ron or Hermione this, but he never felt properly relaxed unless his was at Hogwarts. Hogwarts was as good as his home. No, Hogwarts was his home.

As it was with Voldemort and Snape, he reminded himself. No, no, the sorting hat put me in Gryffindor-

"Harry, Ron!" Harry's thoughts were, once again, interrupted. This distraction came in the form of Neville Longbottom – the clumsiest boy he'd ever met.

"Hi Neville," said Ron, as Neville stumbled over his trunk, "you had a good summer?"

"Yes," Neville looked slightly downcast, "although I didn't make it to the Quidditch World Cup. Gran didn't want me to go. I'm glad I didn't, after what happened, but… I wouldn't have minded seeing the game."

"It was great," said Ron excitedly, and he looked ready to launch into a blow-by-blow action retelling of the match when Neville continued to speak.

"Did you hear the news?" he asked, "y'know… about Snape?"

Harry nodded, "According to the Prophet it's not linked to the Death Eater attack. Hopefully they won't bring back the Dementors."

Neville shuddered, a worried look on his round face, "You seen Hermione?"

"No, she left the train first," said Ron, "how come?"

"I just, er… um…" Neville muttered something that sounded like "curious".

Harry glanced at Ron and saw with a jolt of surprise that his friend looked angry. His eyes immediately widened.

Why hadn't he been expecting it?

Of course, he'd suspected his friends might be like this someday, but he couldn't have realised that it would be so soon. He'd noticed them all summer – discreet glances here, small smiles there – but in the excitement of the Quidditch Cup, and Snape going missing, he'd completely forgotten.

"Yeah, well, we'll be going," Ron grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him away from Neville, towards the carriages. Neither of them said anything for the entire trip, and there was an uncomfortable silence hanging in the air like a thick, heavy quilt.

It was only when the sorting was over and the hat had finished its song that Ron spoke to Hermione.

"Coul' you path the thicken?" he asked, through a mouthful of mashed potato and gravy.

"I'm sorry?"

"The thicken. You path?"

Harry handed Ron the platter of chicken wings, which had been lying next to a jug of pumpkin juice.

"You really shouldn't speak with your mouth full, Ron," Hermione said distastefully.

"Thorry," Ron swallowed his food, "Sorry Hermione."

Harry had been watching the exchange carefully. Grinning slightly, he helped himself to the pumpkin juice.

By the time they'd finished the feast, Harry's school robes were feelings uncomfortably tight. He looked down at his cloak and saw, in disgust, that one of the buttons was hanging loose.

"May I have your attention please," said Dumbledore.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked up at the head table for the first time that night, and noticed two things.

"Who is she?" asked Hermione. Sitting next to Dumbledore, in the seat that Snape usually occupied, was a thin witch with beach blonde hair and pink robes. She was grinning a toothy, pearly smile – looking to Harry like a female Lockhart.

"I'd like to make an important announcement," announced Dumbledore.

"He's looking quite thin, isn't he?" Hermione said anxiously, "you don't think-"

But she was cut off by Dumbledore's speech.

"I'd like to introduce Professor Honey," said the headmaster.

"She's the Potions Teacher?" Ron snorted into his food, "Merlin's Beard!"

Professor Honey was standing up and walking around the table to Dumbledore. She swayed her hips way too obviously, hair swinging behind her.

"Good morning students," she said in a sugar sweet voice, "it is my pleasure to be working here with you all, as the newly assigned Health Teacher."

The students in the hall looked blankly at her.

Honey continued, "It has come to the Headmaster's attention that there is a teeny tiny problem with the school… weight."

No one spoke, eyes fixed on Professor Honey with a mix of disbelief and horror. Harry glanced down at his robes and bit his lip. Yes, they were a teeny tiny bit too small for him… but…

"Years of eating this-"(she snatched a jug of juice from the teacher's table)"-and this-"(she waved a chicken drumstick in the air)"-have, obviously, caused the inevitable…"

All the girls in the school looked mortified.

"…The need for a smart, fun, and active Heath Teacher like me!"

Harry blinked.

Dumbledore smiled respectfully at the teacher before taking centre stage again, "Of course, with a great teacher comes a great responsibility – losing weight. For the rest of the year, each and every one of you will be partaking in a new, Muggle proven, diet. Instead of taking potions class, you will be required to take Health Class with Professor Honey instead."

Only half the students had heard him – there was a rustling going on as people checked their tight school robes. Some, like Crabbe and Goyle, were laughing appreciatively. Others, like Draco Malfoy, were freaking out.

As they climbed the stairs leading up to the Gryffindor common room, Hermione looked down at her robes and sighed.

"I don't remember the need of any of this before," she said glumly.

"Yeah… maybe Dumbledore is a bit too kind for his own good," Ron agreed.

"I don't think so," said Harry.

The other two turned to him.

"I think it has something to do with Snape's disappearance," he continued, "think about it – were your robes ever this tight before?"

"Um, no," said Ron.

"Exactly. I think he did something – maybe slipped a potion into our food – that prevented… this."

"You mean a weight loss potion?" asked Hermione. Harry nodded.

"Well… it's very plausible," she said, a smile creeping onto her face, "I supposed I could look it up in the Library tomorrow…"

Ron nodded, "Yeah, great idea Hermione!"

Hermione had to glance at him to figure out whether he was being sarcastic or not.