"BOY!" he screeched, livid at the freak for breaking his wife’s teacups. He thumped towards him and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, pulling him towards the soundproofed game room. He got thrown onto the swivel chair. Harry looked around warily, wondering why he was even in here. He never was allowed in here, even to clean. He looked back at uncle, searching for the reason on his face. What was surprising, is that the anger was gone. What replaced it though was even more frightening. A malicious smirk overtook his lips, along with a madness glistening in his eyes. He looked like a predator; ready to stalk prey. His smirk widened when he noticed how Harry was shaking, "Now Boy," he started, in an extremely soft, malicious tone. Harry’s jaw dropped. He had never had this tone of voice before, "-looks like we are alone. Stay on the chair. Don’t move. If you do you’ll be sorry." He strode away in a fashion that makes no sense for a middle-aged obese man. He was obviously excited. Ideas flashed through his mind, each of them wilder than the last. After a while, Harry’s nerves intensified. He had never been this anxious ever. He tried to calm down by taking deep breaths, but when the door opened again his chest started beating wildly.