Winter had fallen over hogwarts, and the sun rose on a cold, yet bright morning. Harry's third year had been tough on him, the pressure of being hunted by a dangerous criminal having taken its toll on his figure. The once thin, lean quidditch player had small round belly protruding, and thighs that could rival any girl in his year. Harry knew this, and knew everyone else did too, but he didn't much care. The food helped him cope.
He was woken that morning when Ron threw a pillow at him.
"Ow-"
"Get up Harry!" Shouted Ron from across the room, buttoning his shirt.
"What?" Harry asked blearily as he rubbed his eyes.
"Breakfast!" Ron yelled, "We'll miss it if we don't hurry up!"
Now Harry was listening, he pulled himself out of bed as fast as his overweight form would allow, and got to undressing. As he did so, Ron eyed him up through a mirror on the wall.
It had not been hard to get Harry to put on this weight, just a little nudge here and there ("Try some of this" or "Go on, have some more" ) had added up to produce a boy whose belly very nearly rested on his thighs. Ron felt himself getting slightly excited as he watched his friend struggling to pull his skinny trousers over his expanded ass, and thought about what he was planning to do. Yes. He shook himself from his reverie and finished putting on his robes. By now, Harry had squeezed into his own ill-fitting clothes and the two made a rush for the great hall.
Harry and Ron managed to score a place next to Hermione when they finally arrived at the Gryffindor table, Harry huffing and puffing as he did so, clutching his gut.
"What on earth took you so long?" Asked Hermione, who had already finished her breakfast.
"Somebody overslept," said Ron raising his eyebrows at Harry who was already tucking into a massive platter of bacon and eggs. "Hey Harry, have some black pudding."
"Don't encourage him Ron." Hermione said, deflecting the plate of black pudding placing it out of reach. "It really is not- Harry!"
But Harry was already chewing on a piece of black pudding. He really was famished! He finished off his bacon and eggs, starting on a large bowl of cereal.
"Really, Harry," Hermione scolded, "its just empty calories, you can't keep eating like this!"
The complaints kept on coming, through the second bowl of cereal, the third, and the fourth. Fred and George were seated nearby, and were muttering in a way synonymous with trouble. Just as Harry lifted the first spoonful of his fifth bowl to his chubby mouth, the food vanished, and the tables were bare once again. Harry was disappointed but still full to burst. He lay back on his bench and gave a huge belch.
A few of his fellow gryffindors gave him filthy look. Clearly they blamed him for their disastrous loss against Ravenclaw last month. Rumours had spread that it was Harry's noticeable weight gain that had caused this. Ron could hardly blame them. The wobbly, double-chinned boy was a far cry from the seeker's ideal build. He'd have been surprised if the Gryffindor quidditch team weren't doubting his aptitude by now.
He roused Harry from his food coma by reminding him that it was Transfiguration next, and they had no desire to incur the wrath of McGonagall.
As they hurried themselves toward the thronging crowd, Fred and George Weasley stepped in their way.
"What d'you two want?"
"Just a quick and private word with our dear brother," said Fred innocently
"Run along now." George added, poking Harry in the bloated gut.
"But its McGonagall!" Ron protested, "She'll kill me!"
"I must insist." Fred replied in mock pomposity.
"Whatever, make it quick." Ron relented, "See you there Harry."
As Harry tried to dash off toward the staircases, belly spilling over his waistband, Fred and George led Ron into a deserted stretch of corridor.
"So," George began, "is it you?"
"What?"
"Are you the one feeding Harry?"
Somewhere in Ron's midriff, he felt a sinking feeling.
"No."
"You, my dear younger brother, are bright red." Said Fred.
"Okay, yes. I am. What's it to you?"
Fred and George exchanged dark looks.
"So you're fattening up the most important player on our Quidditch team right as the season begins?" George said incredulously, "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were a Slytherin spy!"
"What? No!" Ron shouted defensively
"Then why?" the twins retorted in unison.
Ron blushed uncontrollably again and Fred scowled. "You like fat boys don't you Ron?"
Ron said nothing.
"And you've thrown away our chance of the Quidditch cup because your best friend's manboobs make you hard?"
Ron still said nothing.
George flung back his head in frustration and seethed:
"Well, Ronald, what do you suggest we do now?"
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