He, again, felt the anticipated glee of what will occur. The steps stopped and his uncle and aunt were glaring at him, both in their nightwear. His uncle’s face was the color of puce and his aunt’s face was flushed with a faint red; hard to see in the dead of night, only illuminated by the small light at the stove. They were both breathing slightly harder than normal in anger. His uncle started to screech his name, but it faltered to a whisper when they caught eye of the floating knives, revolving around his torso in a slow circular motion. He stared at them in fascination when Petunia turned white as paper and Vernon turned even more purple, "STOP THIS FREAKISHNESS AT ONCE, BOY!"