Harry was sitting near the kitchen's table, staring at Dudley and trying to ignore the preparations of the nurse. Dudley probably sensed the look and raised his glance towards Harry. "Not such a Big D right now, huh?" the black-haired boy remarked dryly, pleased to see both the amusement and surprise on his cousin's face. Dudley opened his mouth to reply –

"Boy! Don't you dare to mock Ickle Dudleykins!" snapped Uncle Vernon, his face becoming a dangerous shade of purple. "When that Johnathan Prince will come down, I'll tell him exactly which kind of discipline you require." His fingers tapped lightly on his belt. "And I'm sure he won't – "

Dudley frowned. "I'm not a kid, dad." He interrupted his father's tirade. "If I can handle Leukemia, I can handle him."

Harry was impressed. Wait. "Leukemia?" he echoed.

"Yeah, didn't mom tell you?" asked Dudley, biting his fingernail distractedly. "The doctors say I received it from her side. Perhaps you should check yourself, too."

Petunia coughed violently, her polite façade leaving her horsy face for the first time during their visit. "Not that he's my son or anything," she explained to the uninterested nurse, laughing nervously. "No child of mine will go around with that messy mop on his head."

Harry scowled at her words. He did comb his temporarily long hair. Deliberately, he passed a hand inside his hair, making sure to muddle it even more. Aunt Petunia shot him a glare which didn't come anywhere near Snape's glares.

"Your hand, sweety." Ordered the nurse. Without waiting for his response, she took his arm and rubbed it with a wet wipe, that left a cool feeling on his skin. "Now, just a pain-relief injection…" she pulled out a syringe with a big, silver needle.

"Do people usually need sedatives for taking a blood sample?" asked Dudley, voicing Harry's thoughts. "Not now, Dudley." scolded Petunia sweetly, reminding Harry of Umbridge's tone.

Petunia scolds her son? Something was fishy.

"You know, I don't like needles." Harry added quickly, thinking about the gravestone yard and the silver knife which cut his hand. "I mean, really don't like. I kick pretty nastily. Perhaps we should wait for my teacher."

"I'm sure we can manage," growled Uncle Vernon, placing his buffed hands over Harry's arms, wrapping his wrists like handcuffs. "Just a tiny stab, right? Couldn't be worse than the Dark Lord."

"Nobody calls him like that." Harry raised his voice and tried to push his Uncle's arms away from him, but it felt like fighting a stone. "Except – "

"Muffliato." "Silencio." Said two voices in union. A blue light hit him and Harry looked shocked, unable to utter a word, at the wooden wand which rested in his Aunt's hands. She stood next to the window like before, but now also next to the door.

And next to the counter.

The icing on the cake was that for the second time in two days, Harry was hit by a simple sticking charm. Another one was shot towards his cousin. The nurse and Vernon hadn't shifted their posture the whole time, probably confounded or under Imperius. Silent and unable to move, he stared around helplessly, seeing Dudley's terrified eyes jumping between the polyjuiced Aunt Petunias. Well, not Aunts. Death Eaters.

But the blood wards…

Dudley's hand tried to fumble his own bottom, probably thinking about a nonexistent pigtail. "Now, to take care of your precious babysitter. Johnathan Prince, you say?" asked not-Petunia number one with a nasty smile on her face. "I must say, my wife had mentioned one Johnathan Prince quite a few times before, but never suspected he had anything to do with the Order. We are going to have a very interesting conversation when I'll reach home tonight…"

Harry gulped, both for his teacher and the wife's sake. His visions hadn't left any place for imagination about what happened to the wives of Death Eaters. Seeing those actions had drained any remains of miniature crush that he had on Cho during the last year, making the mere notion of dating baleful.

"Perhaps even at the meeting itself." Added not-Petunia number two, wickedly. "The Dark Lord might reward you with a new trophy, Nott."

Number one, Nott, crossed her – his? arms. "The Dark Lord had ordered us not to reveal our identity, you idiots. You've revealed both of us."

"Hey, I did not!" exclaimed the second. "Surely, Potter doesn't know that we are inseparable – " the third clasped his hand over two.

"Shut up, both of you! You might as well spill all of your secrets in front of him." he hissed, a dark look upon his face. "Nott, come with me. Let's finish off this mudblood."

Harry's face flushed with anger and he tried to growl at the foul name, but the motion looked quite ridiculous since he couldn't make a sound. Third and second, which were in a position to see his face, laughed. The sound of Petunia's laugh in harmony with itself was disturbing.

 "Hey, Potter, tell me – how was my impression of your dearest Aunty? No child of mine will go with that mop on his head?" Asked Nott in a sweet tone and they all chuckled.

"Leave my mother alone." Said Dudley weakly, which made them laugh even harder.

"Oh no," mocked third and glanced at second. "Will you manage by yourself with that threat? Need backup? Another whale-sized muggle, perhaps?"

Not-Petunia number two blushed. Harry wasn't sure if the mock was directed towards his cousin, his uncle or the second imposter. "I - I think I can handle it." He stuttered stiffly.

"Oh, you think. Well, you thought you're able to handle three children by yourself a year ago…" Remarked Nott, smirking smugly.

"For your information, they had Lupin and Black with them!" squeaked Number Two. Pettigrew. "And one of the children was a very capable witch."

Nott and third exchanged unimpressed looks, barely stuffing their laugh. "Whatever you say, honey. Just make sure he doesn't escape while the real men do the hard job. We'll take him later." Said Number Three lightly and motioned with his head towards the stairs. "Let's go, Nott."

Harry was praying that Snape won't be caught with his pants down, literally. What was taking him so long, anyway?

Actually, Severus Snape (or rather Johnathan Prince) was sitting on the edge of Harry Potter's bed, next to the body of Petunia Evans-Dursley, staring at the bars on the window.

Almost twenty years ago, Severus studied for his mastery. He researched a few calming-natured potions. The latest reason, of which he'd never admit aloud (not even to Albus), was the Longbottom family. However, his first and main source of motivation was his mother, who had slowly lost herself to madness, driven there on the autostrada which was named Tobias Snape.

The only positive attribute which Severus inherited from Tobias was his hooked, giant nose. At childhood it was his Achilles' heel, a source to mockery and facetiousness. Yet, slowly, he understood the superiority which his anatomical structure had granted him, making him a prodigy in the subject of Potions; he had an exceptional olfaction.

Severus could stand above a cauldron of bubbling potion he'd never seen before and classify the nature of the potion merely by sniffing it. If somebody brews or consumes a standard recipe, Severus could even tell what was it just by the faint whiff that carried on.

Following those facts, it was obvious that the Potions Master didn't need to sniff twice in order to tell that somebody had given Petunia Dursley the Draught of Peace.

Ruling out the impossible possibility of a secret twin that he'd never seen, there was only one option left, even though the blood wards still barricaded the house (he checked twice to make sure).

Severus reckoned that there must be an involvement of Death Eaters in the situation. He concluded that they would not leave any witnesses; the Dark Lord's rise was still hidden. Thus, the house won't be burnt down, and no Morsmordre will embellish the small neighborhood.

His eyes inspected meticulously Petunia's hair, a smug smile floating on his face as he had found what he searched for. The negligent cuts couldn't have been on the dandyish woman regularly. Severus examined the missing hairlocks of Lily's sist –

He stopped his train of thoughts. The dream had meant something; no more reminiscing. Potter was a person of his own.

So, he'd examined the missing hairlocks of Potter's dreadful aunt. It was a small bunch. It was the amount needed for a small mission, tops four agents, in and out. The whole incident will leave no witnesses, preferably as clean as it could be, which meant that there would be no bodies.

So, sooner or later, the Death Eaters would come to get him. He needed to somehow create an unfair advantage for himself. Severus was used to four on one fights and knew that the only way to win an unwinnable combat is to never fight in it.

A hypothesis popped into his mind, and a simple apparition proved him correct. He smirked as he made two portkeys to Potter's room out of the first, middle and the last steps to the upper floor. Then, he silently slipped into the room and waited patiently for his prey.

He could've been a great hunter.

The first victim had appeared in the room after exactly four minutes, stumbling in surprise. Severus mercilessly shot a Stupefy towards the polyjuiced Death Eater and he fell to the floor in a thump. He should've prevented it; the lack of sleep dulls his instincts.

The second Death Eater appeared in the room three minutes after; he was ready for the portkey and ducked immediately. However, the trained dueler had the upper hand, and after a brief duel Severus has managed to hit him with an Imperius.

Two more Death Eaters left. He cursed the moment that he'd left his Veritaserum at the lab. He should've carried it, despite the risk of being caught.

A loud noise of glass shattering was heard from downstairs. "Stay here." Severus hissed and bolted towards the kitchen, skipping the portkey-steps (two of them were missing), his heart pounding. He'd hoped it wasn't too late.