“Oh, no! Not him, not now!”

Harry Potter groaned miserably to himself. He’d finally decided to visit the apothecary to get his ingredients for potions class, and who should decide to visit the shop too? None other than his professor, Severus Snape. And Harry was alone – his friends hadn’t made it to Diagon Alley yet.

“Anything I can help ye with, Professor?” the clerk at the front of the store asked, smarmily. Harry felt oily just listening to the man.

“No, thank you. I’m just browsing,” came the deep voice of the man who hated Harry the most. Harry was already at the back of the shop, but now he cringed back further into the shadows, hoping against hope that Snape wouldn’t come this far. There was another man – rather incongruously dressed in long, thick robes, considering it was the beginning of August – hanging around near the shop’s front window. Harry was hoping that if he made his way round that way, then he could duck behind the man and sneak back out into the Alley before Snape even realised he’d been here.

Unfortunately, Harry’s plan was rather abruptly foiled when the man cast a quick look around himself, then stealthily moved a jar of ground powder from the shelf into a hidden pocket in his robes and started for the door.

As soon as he set foot past the front counter, a klaxon began blaring. “Oi!” the clerk bellowed, and the man instantly barrelled out of the shop. “Stop, thief!” the clerk yelled, and went haring out of the shop after him.

Harry’s jaw dropped. Didn’t the clerk care that there were still customers in his shop? Unattended customers, who could take the opportunity to follow the other man’s example?

A loud snort drew his attention back to Snape, and Harry swiftly reconsidered. Snape was as good a deterrent as any, he supposed, since mostly likely nobody else would dare enter the shop if they spotted him.

As Snape began to wander the aisles, occasionally brushing long slender fingers over jars filled with all manner of ingredients, Harry desperately wished he had his Invisibility Cloak with him. If Snape caught sight of him, this would not end well.

Hang on . . . Harry tilted his head, curiously. Was that . . . was Snape . . . Snape was actually humming. The tune was rather familiar, although Harry couldn’t immediately place it.

And then Harry almost fell over from shock. Snape had actually started singing – out loud!

“Aconite, sneezewort and old glum Glumbumble,
Asphodel, nettles and Bundimun secretions,
Dragon eggs, flobberworms and Billywig parts,
These are a few of my favourite things.”

Granted, it was still a very soft ‘out loud’, but Harry could clearly hear the words. Snape actually had a lovely singing voice, a smooth baritone. Considering how big his nose was, Harry wouldn’t have been surprised to find Snape sounded rather nasally.

Snape was beginning to move faster through the aisles, even doing a spin or two. Harry’s jaw dropped. This was his strict and unfair potions professor?!

“Wolfsbane and fluxweed and old belladonna,
Boomslang skin, lovage and Erumpent fluid,
Cockroaches, wormwood and puffer-fish parts,
These are a few of my favourite things.”

Snape’s voice was also getting louder as he apparently gained confidence in the empty apothecary. Occasionally, he would lift a jar from a shelf and hold it up to the murky light coming in through the shop’s front windows before replacing it, almost tenderly.

He whirled around to start down yet another aisle, and Harry barely managed to move in time to prevent the professor from seeing him. Of course, his reflexes had been dulled by the mind-boggling sight of Snape . . . skipping.

“Peppermint, horned toads and Ashwinder eggs, frozen, of course,” Snape interrupted himself in a quiet aside, before taking up his song again.
“Monkshood and moonstone, with runespore and rat,
Re’em blood, leeches and black beetle eyes,
These are a few of my favourite things.”

He paused in the centre of an aisle, and struck a pose.

“When the students shout, and their cauldrons melt,
When I'm feeling sad,
I simply remember my favourite things,
And then I don't feel so bad.”

There was a short pause, which was apparently an instrumental in Snape’s head, before the man was off again, moving around the apothecary as though he was doing ballet, complete with strange leaps and pirouettes.

“Aconite, sneezewort and old glum Glumbumble,
Asphodel, nettles and Bundimun secretions,
Dragon eggs, flobberworms and Billywig parts,
These are a few of my favourite things.

Wolfsbane and fluxweed and old belladonna,
Boomslang skin, lovage and Erumpent fluid,
Cockroaches, wormwood and puffer-fish parts,
These are a few of my favourite things.

Peppermint, horned toads and Ashwinder eggs,

Monkshood and moonstone, with runespore and rat,
Re’em blood, leeches and black beetle eyes,
These are a few of my favourite things.

When the students shout, and their cauldrons melt,
When I'm feeling sad,
I simply remember my favourite things,
And then I don't feel,” Snape paused again, just in front of the sales counter, spreading his arms out as though to embrace the shop. He took in a deep breath. “So baddddddddd.”

Closing his eyes, Snape dropped his arms to his sides.

The sound of manic clapping startled both Snape and Harry. The store clerk had returned, and was standing framed in the doorway. “Bravo, sir!” he cried. “Marvellous! Magnificent!”

Snape flushed a dull brick-red colour, and hastened his way out of the apothecary, the clerk trailing behind him with requests for autographs and encores.

Snickering, Harry took the chance to make his own escape. What a tale he’d have to tell his friends!