Gazing down at the small numbers on the scales, Harry couldn't help but smile broadly. Who would have thought that in just a few months he could have lost a whole stone? Stripping off his clothes, he stared at himself in the mirror.

Of course, there was still room for improvement. The paunch of his stomach and his sagging forearms were clear indications of his laziness and imperfection. He was determined to eradicate them before it was too late. Before he let everyone down.

Making his slow way back to the dormitories, Harry was unable to repress a shiver. Despite his many layers of clothes, he felt cold to his core. For some reason, he was finding himself wearing more and more layers in an attempt to ward of an inexplicable chill.

After taking a hot shower, Harry's vision started to blur and so he returned to his bed with every intention of sleeping for the majority of the day. Unfortunately, his plan was not to be. Just an hour after he returned to bed, he was shaken rudely awake by a very excited Ron, "Harry, Harry! Why aren't you up yet? It's Hogsmede weekend! Let's go!"

Grumbling to himself about inconsiderate people who were overly loud in the mornings, Harry pulled himself out of bed… only to fall promptly on Ron. "Watch it, mate!" Ron had managed to catch him, but only just.

Feeling the heat rise in his face, Harry mumbled an apology and disappeared behind his hangings to get dressed. What had just happened? And why? Hearing his teeth chatter, Harry instructed himself to get a grip. He was stronger than this. He had to win. He had to.

Ron, meanwhile, was staring in confusion at the hangings that concealed his best friend. In the few moments he had held him, Ron could have sworn that he was nothing more than skin and bone. But how could that have happened? He was always with them at meals… wasn't he? Or at least, he was always visiting Dobby in the kitchens and eating there. That's what he had been telling them.

"Oi, Harry, I'm starving. Will you hurry up?" He knew what Harry was going to say before he heard it but it still left him with a sinking feeling, "You go ahead. I'll grab something later." Now that he really thought about it, he hadn't seen his friend eat since the beginning of term. And if he hadn't been eating in the kitchens…

"I'll meet you downstairs in half an hour. Don't be late!" And with that, Ron rushed off to do some investigating.

"You cold Harry?" Ron had been watching his friend carefully ever since they left the school and by the time they entered Hogsmede, a number of alarm bells were ringing. Not only did Harry seem to be wearing enough jumpers for three people, he was still shivering. And that was to say nothing of the preoccupied look in his eyes and the way he kept tripping over his feet. How long had this been going on? How could they all have missed it?

Feeling Harry clutch his arm for support, Ron made a decision. He was going to have to discuss this with Hermione. And, if his suspicions were correct, he knew a way that he could get rid of Harry for an hour of two.

"It's a bit chilly isn't it? Let's grab a butterbeer from The Three Broomsticks. Should warm us up a bit!" Hermione nodded her approval but Harry looked stricken.

"Yeh, I'd love to but I can't… I have to do a bit of research for Dumbledore. I'll meet you outside Flourish and Blotts in an hour." Ron grimaced, this latest excuse was further evidence of a theory that he really didn't want to believe.

Seeing that Hermione was about to protest, he took her by the arm and lead her to the pub, "Course Harry, we understand. See you in a bit." Noting Hermione's look of irritation, he shook his head slightly, "Not now. Wait till we're inside."

It took less than fifteen minutes for Ron to disclose all the evidence of his theory and by the end of it, Hermione looked on the verge of tears. "Oh Ron, how could we be so blind?"

Ron felt his heart sink, "So you think I'm right? You think he has a… food problem?" Hermione nodded in despair, "Skipping meals, lying to us, feeling cold all the time, feeling dizzy, oh Ron, whatever are we going to do?"

Ron bit his lip in apprehension, "We could call him out about it. I mean, he can't deny that he hasn't been getting food from the kitchens; the house elves can prove that part. And there's all the other symptoms he can't deny. Maybe if we talk to him about it, we can understand why he's doing this to himself. Do you have any ideas?"

Hermione's brow was furrowed in thought, "I don't know much about eating disorders, if that's what this is, but I think it has something to do with trying to control a part of your life when everything else is chaotic."

Ron nodded. That definitely made sense. But how to approach the subject? Would he just close off even more? Hide the evidence? Feel that they were trying to control him? "I know I don't normally say this, but maybe we should leave this to one of the teachers. Or a Healer. We don't understand what he's going through and anything we do may make his condition worse. I hate snitching on him, but his health is at stake and I think it would be for the best…"

Hermione looked at Ron appraisingly, "You know, Ron, that's the most sensible thing you've said in a long time."

Ron grinned at her, "You must be rubbing off on me, Hermione." Hermione blushed in response. "Then it's agreed. We'll talk to a teacher about this and hopefully get Harry the help he needs."

Meanwhile, the boy under discussion was perusing the "Muggle studies" section at Flourish and Blotts. After much searching, he had finally found a book on muggle dieting methods. However, to his disappointment, most of the methods were utterly ridiculous. Who wanted to eat cabbage soup three times a day? And why would anyone live off lemon juice and cayenne pepper?

He was just about to put the book back when a surge of dizziness overtook him. Feeling darkness cloud his vision, he dropped the book on the floor and gripped a nearby bookcase to stop himself from falling. Clutching his abdomen with both hands, he ground his teeth against the sharp pain that seemed to be kicking him from within.

It was then that he heard the voice that he had grown to despise, "Well, well, Mr Potter, looking at muggle weight loss remedies are we? And just when I thought you couldn't get any more pathetic."

Harry opened his mouth to retort but closed it again when he felt the bile rising in his throat, "What, no clever retort today?" Harry could hear Snape's soft footsteps approaching him and he shook his head gently to clear his vision, but to no avail.

It was only when Snape was a foot or so away that his tone changed, "What is wrong with you, Potter?" Harry felt his heart start beating faster but didn't trust himself to reply, "If you're ill, you should be in the Hospital Wing."

Hearing this, Harry's weakened heart went into overdrive. Not the Hospital Wing. Anywhere but there. He wasn't weak. He wasn't vulnerable. He wasn't sick. He was a fighter and he was going to win this battle. Even if it killed him.

"No…sir…" he had wanted to argue his case, declare he was well, make some witty retort. But the toll the conversation took on his heart left him unable to do any of those things. Instead, he collapsed in a heap at the shocked professor's feet and would not regain consciousness for three days…

Hope you liked! Review for continuation