The Second year Gryffindors ambled down to the allocated greenhouse for double Herbology, enjoying the warmth of the late September sunshine. The Slytherins were already waiting, clustered around Professor Sprout who stood at the front of the greenhouse with a potted plant by her side. Taller than her, it had golden bronze foliage and bean pods at the base, turning to lime green further up. The plant which was topped by a profusion of bi-coloured flowers.

“Good Afternoon class,” said Professor Sprout. “This plant is generally known as the Biting Bean and while it looks very attractive you must handle it with care. You will work in pairs, and as you can see, plants are already set out at your benches. Today your task is to harvest the golden hued bean pods which are perfectly ripened and at their best for use in healing creams. Mr Longbottom, could you assist me please, and I will demonstrate the technique. One of you must grasp the two pincer like protuberances at the top of the pod and hold them firmly behind the stalk, like so. Keep a firm grip or you will understand why the plant is called the Biting Bean. This will enable your partner to twist the pod away from the stalk. Thank you Mr Longbottom – five points to Gryffindor. Do not touch the green pods, and don’t go near the flowers – there are young pods hiding amongst them, and they are more vicious than the ripened ones. So, to sum up, mind your fingers – oh, and don’t smell the flowers. The scent can cause some people to become giggly and inattentive, so if anyone begins to feel lightheaded please go outside immediately. Mr Potter! What are you doing?”

“I’m going to pick you some flowers,” Harry laughed from his elevated position, standing on the work bench. “Ooh, pretty!” He reached for a bean flower. “Oww, oww, naughty plant!” He grabbed more flowers ignoring the scratches the baby pods gave him.

“NO, HARRY!” Hermione shrieked, “PROFESSOR SPROUT SAID DON’T…….smell the flowers.”

“Way. Too. Late,” Harry said with satisfaction, sticking his nose right into the posy he had assembled.

“Mr Potter, get down now,” ordered Professor Sprout. “Come along, you need to go outside into the fresh air.”

“Okay,” Harry replied with a beatific smile. “Wheee!” He leapt down from the bench and began to dance out of the greenhouse humming ‘Follow the yellow brick road’.

“Oh dear,” said Professor Sprout. “Mr Weasley – quickly – follow him and take him to Madam Pomfrey. Miss Granger, you go too. Make sure that they get to the infirmary. Explain to Madam Pomfrey that Mr Potter is extremely reactive to the scent of the Biting Bean plant. She will know what to do. Quickly now – you’ll still have time to complete the assignment if you come straight back here.”

************

 “Daddy!” Harry cried, clapping his hands excitedly when the black clad figure of Professor Snape entered the infirmary, carefully carrying a full goblet of a steaming purple potion.

“Don’t be stupid, Potter,” Snape barked. “You are letting the hallucinations take charge. Do try to control yourself.”

“You must be my daddy – we’ve got the same colour hair,” Harry asserted happily.

Snape gave him a withering glance, tapped sharply on the door and marched into Madam Pomfrey’s office.

“Oh, Severus, thank you,” she said. “I’ve never known anyone since you yourself to have such a reaction to those bean flowers.”

“Well, at least you won’t have to wait a couple of days for the effects to wear off this time,” Snape said, setting the goblet down on her desk. “You will just have to infuse a single Biting Bean in this for five minutes, then wait a further five minutes before you administer the potion to Mr Potter. It should stop that abysmal caterwauling and return him to normal. Well, as normal as a Potter ever is.”

Harry was now singing at the top of his voice.”Postman Pat, postman Pat, postman Pat and his black and white cat…”

Madam Pomfrey cringed. “He keeps singing that tune. I don’t understand what this Postman Pat is.”

“Sounds like a Muggle childrens’ song,” said Snape, “Although not one I am familiar with. Trust Potter to make a complete nuisance of himself.”

“Now then, Severus. You know it’s not his fault. At least I’ve managed to Stick him to the bed. I remember another young man dancing in the aisles bellowing some Muggle song. ‘Help’ by the Spiders wasn’t it? No, the Acromantulas – you said they were great.”

“Beatles,” mumbled Snape, his cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink.

“And then you kept telling everyone that this was the hospital wing and a prayer. You thought that was funny, but it made no sense to anyone else.” Madam Pomfrey smiled at the memory.

“Yes, yes. Well I’m glad I made such a lasting impression on you,” Snape said snippily. “I’ll be off and leave you to it, but call me if there are any problems.” He hastily made his way to the door, ignoring Harry’s open arms and repeated cry of “Daddy!”

***********

“Oh, God, “ Harry moaned as the class waited outside the Potions lab for the door to be flung open to admit them. “He’s going to murder me.”

“Don’t be silly, Harry,” Hermione consoled. “He’ll understand that you couldn’t help your reaction to the Biting Bean plant. Anyway, I expect he quite enjoyed brewing an unusual potion.”

“No!” Harry said. “I called Snape ‘Dad’ in the infirmary. Well, ‘Daddy’ to be precise.”

“What! Why would you do that?”

“Dunno,” Harry whispered miserably.

“Ruddy hell, Harry. You’re right. He’s not going to be happy. It’ll be zero marks all round for Gryffindor, and that’ll be if we’re lucky,” Ron declared.

*****

Surprisingly, Snape was less snarky than normal during the Potions class, merely Vanishing Seamus’ potion with an exaggerated sigh when a bilious green froth bubbled over the top of a cauldron that was meant to contain a pale blue concoction. He even failed to take points when preventing Neville from dumping daisy roots into his mixture whole instead of the fine dice of the instructions. He seemed lost in thought at times, and hadn’t actually insulted a Gryffindor at all when the bell rang for the end of morning classes.

“Come on, Harry,” Ron said. “Let’s run upstairs and dump our stuff and get back to be first in line for the food, I’m flipping starving.”

Harry hurriedly stuffed his equipment into his bag and started to follow Ron.

“Mr Potter, a word please,” called Snape.

Reluctantly Harry approached the Professor’s desk and waited while the classroom emptied.

Snape’s dark eyes gave nothing away as he scrutinised Harry.

“I’m sorry I called you what I did in the infirmary,” Harry blurted out. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“I can understand -“ Snape looked towards the classroom door. “Mr Malfoy. What can I do for you?”

“Err….um…I think I left my quill behind.” Draco sidled into the room and made a show of looking around the bench where he had been working. “No, it’s not here. Maybe Crabbe picked it up. Sorry to disturb you.” He scuttled out under a fierce Snape glare.

Snape slammed the door shut with a wave of his wand and then stood up.

“Follow me, Mr Potter. I would prefer to speak with some privacy.” He put his palm flat on the wall behind his desk and a hazy doorway appeared.

“Through you go, and keep to your right.”

Harry caught a glimpse of a sitting room furnished in soft greens and brown as he was hustled through into a tiny, but surprisingly bright, modern and Muggle, galley kitchen with not a cauldron in sight.

“Sit down,” ordered Snape, and Harry obediently clambered up onto one of the two tall stools that were set near a small table. He admired the only magical item he could see – a large window next to the table showing a panoramic view of a heather clad glen which gave a feeling of space to the small room, while Snape rattled cups and spoons.

Snape plonked a cheerful red polka dot mug in front of Harry along with milk and sugar, and a yellow spotted mug for himself. “A Christmas gift from your Head of house,” he said in response to Harry’s quizzical look. He added a packet of jammie dodgers to the table and indicated that Harry should help himself.

Snape studied Harry for a moment as he took a bite of his biscuit, then continued with the conversation he had planned to have in the classroom. “You have no need to be apologetic or embarrassed, Mr Potter. I too am one of the few wizards who have a strong reaction to the scent of the Biting Bean flower, so I am familiar with the effect it can have. But, to be clear, you are quite sure that you had no strange fantasies about me being your father before this episode?”

“NO! I swear the thought had never entered my head, but I couldn’t stop myself from saying it.”

“That’s good, because I can assure you that James Potter is your sire. The black hair comes from your grandfather Potter, and I suspect the untidiness from his wife – she always looked to have used a great deal of Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion. Then of course the green eyes come down from your grandfather Evans, but naturally your Aunt Petunia will have told you all about him.”

“Aunt Petunia never told me anything, except a few lies,” Harry said bitterly. “She’d be really nasty if I asked anything when I was little, so I soon learned not to bother.  I’d never even seen a photo of my parents till Hagrid got some together last year. She doesn’t really like me.”

“It doesn’t sound as if Petunia has improved with age. She never liked me either,” commented Snape.

“Sir…. if you know Aunt Petunia does that mean you knew my Mum and Dad and my grandparents?” Harry asked eagerly.

“I only knew the Potters by repute and from pictures in the Prophet when they attended grand society events. But your mother and I were friends for some years, so I knew her family quite well. Harry and May Evans were a lovely couple, and always very kind to me.”

“Harry? I was named after my grandfather?” Harry looked at his Professor with huge hopeful eyes.

“Well, yes, of course.” Snape sighed. “Petunia really has kept you in the dark. I never could understand how two such nice people could produce a child like her. I imagine your mother was delighted when Petunia picked that outlandish name for her son so that she could choose her father’s name for you. Wait here a moment.”

Snape disappeared into his living area and rummaged in a cupboard. He came back with a large square biscuit tin, which he opened to reveal an untidy heap of photographs. He sifted through them and put several on the table. “Here, these are your grandparents, and here’s one with Lily in it too.” He hesitated then added another. “That’s your mother on the day we got our Hogwarts letters. I’m afraid they are only Muggle pictures, but better than nothing. Take them,”  he said as Harry just stared longingly. “Put them in your bag – you can keep them.”

“That’s really kind of you, sir. I’ll treasure them always.” Harry carefully tucked the photos inside his Potions text book.

Snape finished his tea then spoke again. “I may be able to tell you more at a later date, but for now we need to address the little problem of the effect the Biting Bean has on you. Having the same issue myself I have been able to develop a protection.”

He handed Harry a bag with a drawstring top. “These may look like sweets, but one lozenge will counteract the effect of the Bean for a full day. You should be on high alert within the castle for a bit as someone or other will certainly think it a great joke to bring Bean flowers close to you and laugh at the result. Or at least they did in my day. Once they realise you have a reliable antidote they should stop trying to make you look foolish and things will go no further. But do not let your guard down, and always use the lozenges as you are vulnerable to any sort of attack while under the influence of the Bean flower. I have enclosed a copy of the recipe, but while you are at school you may ask me for further supplies when you need them.”

Snape passed Harry a small pot of cream. “This will stop the residual itching from the Bean bites.”

“Thank you, sir. I really do appreciate this.” Harry indicated the bag.

“Don’t thank me too much. I feel obliged to share it with you because your mother helped me to develop the lozenges, and the salve is her own creation.”

“My Mum was good at Potions?”

“Yes, indeed. She could have been exceptional, but Charms always interested her more.”

“Well, I’m going to thank you again,“ said Harry. “You’ve told me more about my family in a few minutes than Aunt Petunia ever did.”

“Hmm, well you’d best be off now or you’ll completely miss lunch. If you hurry Mr Weasley won’t have eaten every morsel on the table.” Snape opened the door, this time straight onto the dungeon corridor.

He watched thoughtfully as Harry ran up the staircase that led to the Great Hall. He was tempted to go and have words with Petunia, but that might not help Potter in the long run. He would have to think about that. And while he’d always considered Potter to be a clone of his father, out of class it was evident that the boy had more of Lily’s attributes that just her eyes. It was however a great shame that the boy had inherited his father’s lack of aptitude with a cauldron.