Chapter 25. March 23, 1898

"Behave yourself, Ominis," Marvolo whispered to him when Ominis made a move towards the girl lying on the floor to help her up. Marv took him by the elbow and pulled him past her, saying, "don't try to meddle in someone else's business."

Vincent grabbed the girl by the hair and dragged her along, smiling as he recounted some news and gossip, ignoring her cries. They walked a couple of meters, and Marvolo pushed open one of the side doors, letting everyone go ahead. He entered last, and the lock ominously clicked behind him. The room was dark, and muffled murmurs could be heard. Vincent pushed his girl forward, and she, unable to stay on her feet, crashed and moaned somewhere in the darkness. Ominis froze by the door, tightly gripping his wand in trembling hands, while Marvolo slowly lit candles one by one. He took a step back and leaned against the wall when the candles slightly illuminated the space, revealing three figures sitting right on the floor in the corner. They were three young boys, barely of age, with their mouths gagged and their eyes blindfolded. Their hands were tied behind their backs, and they didn't even attempt to move or make a sound upon hearing the newcomers; they only synchronously turned their heads towards the entrance. Marvolo grinned widely, watching Ominis, whose face slowly contorted with horror.

The boys bore a striking resemblance to each other, even though it was clear they had no blood relation: they were short, slender, with pale skin covered in bruises in some places, and they all had light hair of roughly the same length. Ominis nervously swallowed, unable to take his wand off them, trying to dispel the lump in his throat and stop shaking. When Marvolo gestured invitingly towards the sofa, Ominis automatically moved towards it and collapsed weakly onto the cushions at the edge. Across from him, Vincent was already pouring whiskey into glasses.

"Your brother has impeccable taste, doesn't he? Even a blind man can appreciate it," he laughed at his own joke, leaning forward and offering one of the glasses to Ominis. Ominis took a deep breath of the alcohol's scent, making sure there were no foreign substances, and took a big sip. The drink burned his throat and brought him back to his senses a bit. His fingers on the wand relaxed slightly, and he allowed himself to exhale. After all, he hadn't expected fine dining or a trip to the theater from Marv, right?

Marvolo led one of the boys to the sofa and seated him between himself and Ominis. Vincent enthusiastically applauded. Marv pulled Ominis' hand sharply, bringing his wand closer to the face of the compliant youth between them, forcing him to look into it. Slowly, with evident pleasure, he lowered the blindfold around the boy's eyes, and Ominis tried to move further away, but he was already sitting on the edge of the couch. The space in front of him was now occupied by the light-blue eyes of the boy, with dilated pupils that hadn't narrowed even in the sudden bright light. They didn't attempt to focus on the face in front of them or on anyone else present; they stared into nothingness, just like Ominis' own eyes without the wand.

"Oh god," he uttered in a barely audible whisper, stunned. He felt an icy sweat trickle down his neck and spine.

"I'd like to say they're perfect, but that's not quite right," Marvolo said casually, pulling the gag out of the boy's mouth and bringing a glass of iridescent liquid to his lips, with playful curls of steam rising from it, "for some reason, their pupils just don't want to merge with the main color of their eyes. And I'd really like to know why yours did."

"What the...?" Ominis muttered, feeling like he was losing touch with reality. The whole situation seemed so surreal and absurd that believing it was actually happening was nearly impossible. He slowly shifted his wand between the boy on the couch and the two in the corner. What the hell was going on? Why did his brother need boys who looked so much like him? Why was he blinding them? He understood that this couldn't be for anything good and abruptly stood up, backing toward the door, intending to leave.

"Where do you think you're going, little Ominis?" Marvolo asked with genuine surprise, placing the empty glass back on the table and running his fingers through the hair of the youth sitting next to him, "keep in mind, you can't just Apparate from here; you need to exit to the pub upstairs first. But if you try, you won't make it there."

"Don't spoil the fun, Ominis," Vincent said disapprovingly, beckoning the girl towards him. She smiled widely through her tears as she tried to get up from the floor and approach him. However, one of her ankles was unnaturally twisted, so she simply started crawling on all fours, mumbling something about her boundless love.

"Take your seat. Don't worry, I won't harm you," Marvolo smirked, pointing to an empty spot on the couch for Ominis. Ominis, feeling wobbly on his feet, returned to the couch, thinking only about waiting for a better opportunity. He didn't want to see this room and the people in it, but he couldn't put his wand away. His heart pounded somewhere in his throat, eager to burst out, and his head was on the verge of exploding from the tension. Ominis felt a crushing pain in his temples and winced.

"You still dislike our society so much?" Vincent muttered sadly, lazily pointing his wand at the girl crawling towards him, "Imperio!"

The girl flinched and instantly stopped crying and smiling. Her face took on an empty, indifferent expression. She sat on her knees and straightened her back. The wizard lazily waved his wand from side to side, and she slowly stood up, leaning on her broken leg as if she felt nothing. Not a single muscle twitched on her face, but Ominis heard the sickening crunch of her bones and turned away, pinching the bridge of his nose. Ignoring her injury, the girl approached him, took his chin in her fingers, and turned his face toward her. He heard Marvolo's vile chuckle as she stuck out her tongue and ran it along his chin. He jerked away and pushed her slightly, but her leg, barely supporting her body, twisted even more, and she tumbled onto a low table in front of the couch, shattering a bottle and spilling whiskey around her. Her body twitched strangely, lifted itself, and seemed to fling itself aside, lying against the wall. Her gaze remained just as glassy, despite her ankle now swollen and bruised, and her abdomen and thighs were covered in embedded shards. She lay on the floor like a lifeless doll, not even blinking, while Vincent, her tormentor, lamented the wasted alcohol.

"She even spilled on my cloak! Your life is worth less than this cloak! Tergeo!" the wet spots disappeared from his cloak, but the highest level of irritation remained on his face. He took a step toward the girl, and she trembled again, like a broken mechanism, trying to stand up. She leaned against the wall with her hand for support. Ominis gripped the upholstery of the couch with his fingers, unable to turn away from what was happening. Maybe he would have even tried to help her, but he felt Marvolo's heavy hand on his shoulder, which he stretched along the back of the couch behind the fair-haired youth. The hand clenched firmly, and he heard a quiet whisper: "Watch and don't move." Ominis nervously swallowed, feeling a throbbing tension in his body and a strong desire to get out of here as soon as possible.

Suddenly, the sound of bones cracking echoed again: the girl pressed her wrist against the wall with such incredible force that her wrist and fingers literally smeared across it. But not a single scream or groan escaped her lips. Ominis bit his lip until it hurt and turned away for a few seconds, closing his eyes. Marvolo had been watching him intently the whole time and chuckled with satisfaction. He whispered something to the youth sitting between them and untied his hands. The traces of the ropes on them were dark purple, indicating that he had spent most of his life here in them. He cautiously rubbed them, slowly and cautiously moving toward his unfortunate comrades. His bare feet stepped on shards, and he winced a little but continued forward.

Ominis felt as if his head might burst from the madness unfolding around him. Marvolo and his companion displayed a chilling sincerity in their dehumanization of these Muggles, treating them like animals or mere playthings. It was reminiscent of children callously crushing insects underfoot, driven by momentary amusement without consideration for the consequences. Yet, there was an unmistakably adult sadistic pleasure in their actions. At its core, their attitude toward Muggles portrayed them as inferior, insignificant beings, their suffering deemed less meaningful than that of insects squashed beneath a boot. To them, Muggles' pain held no equivalence to their own, their blood ran a different hue, and their lives were utterly expendable.

Ominis grappled with a visceral horror surging within him, swiftly suppressing it with a potent mixture of disgust and fear. It felt as though they had been in this room for an eternity, though surely not even an hour had passed. His thoughts turned to Sebastian, sitting alone in their bedroom. Worry consumed him, and he longed to be with him, enveloped in the warmth and safety of his embrace, even if that safety was ephemeral. But all around him, there was only the heavy air saturated with Amortentia and alcohol, and beside him were two entirely unpredictable wizards.

Movement at his feet startled Ominis, and he lowered his wand abruptly, widening his eyes. Three fair-haired youths sat on the floor beside him; their eyes were no longer blindfolded and instilled icy horror in Ominis with their emptiness and indifference. Did his own eyes look the same way? Their heads turned in unison toward Marvolo, as if they could see him. However, Marvolo didn't even look at them, keeping his ecstatic, manic gaze fixed on Ominis, who couldn't bring himself to put his wand away from these innocent Muggle boys. Apart from horror, he felt disgust for the entire situation and pity for them. They appeared to him as ghastly apparitions, and he was afraid to even touch them, for fear that his fingers would pass through their nonexistent, cool flesh. His hearing was once again pierced by the moist, crunchy sounds and hushed encouragements from Vincent in the corner. One of the youths rested his head on Ominis' lap, and he shuddered and even reached to push him away, but he heard his brother's quiet voice from the side.

"Touch him, and I'll break his leg," he said with undisguised pleasure, taking the surviving glass of whiskey from the table and not taking his eyes off Ominis. Ominis immediately withdrew his hand, which had almost touched the soft hair.

"Marvolo, whatever you're planning, you'd better stop," Ominis asserted firmly, even though his insides were clenched and trembling. He had a fair understanding of various forms of attack and self-defense, but facing other wizards alone was an entirely different challenge. A shudder ran through him when he felt the fingers of another youth sliding up from his ankle to his knee. His hand barely had time to jerk away when his wand flew out of his grasp and fell somewhere far away with a barely audible thud.

"Expelliarmus!" Marvolo shouted just a moment before and chuckled, "your face is like an open book. It's impossible not to guess what you're planning when you look at it for even a second."

The room before Ominis plunged into pitch darkness, and he blinked in astonishment. For many years, he had never allowed himself to be in such a vulnerable situation. He had only set aside his wand in the presence of Sebastian because he felt safe with him. Inside, anger boiled at himself for losing his vigilance and ending up unarmed. Unarmed next to Marvolo, just like that terrible day fifteen years ago. Thoughts raced feverishly in his head, considering and discarding options, attempting to find the most appropriate way out of the situation. "The most appropriate course of action would have been not to come here at all but to disappear with Sebastian to a safer place yesterday," his inner voice quipped, and it was impossible to disagree with it. He felt the youth lift his head from his lap and was about to sigh in relief, but then he felt him press him down onto the couch, sitting on his lap. He pushed the boy away lightly at first, hoping that the boy wasn't strong enough, but then with more force. The boy only tightened his grip on the back of the couch behind Ominis' shoulders and pressed his hips, pushing him against the couch with even greater force. Ominis cursed loudly, ceasing his attempts, and turned his face in the direction where Marvolo was sitting.

"What do you want from me?" Ominis said with an unflinching icy tone, attempting to conceal his fear of the unfolding nightmare.

"Nothing. I just want to have a good time tonight, and you can provide that for me," Marvolo's voice oozed sadistic pleasure, and Ominis was certain there was a wicked grin on his face.

"Well, well, what's going on here?" Vincent's voice approached them with curiosity, drawing out his words. He was dragging something behind him, and the scent of blood reached Ominis' nose. He also heard something soft and squishy fall nearby. Vincent sighed as he settled into a chair across from them, "oh, I'm so tired. Is it even worth it? All these Muggle girls amuse me for no more than a couple of days, and then I get so tired... Maybe I should try boys too?"

"Give it a try, but I think it's all about you, not them," Marvolo muttered in response, "you just don't know how to extract everything they're capable of."

"What the hell is happening?!" Ominis screamed in horror, feeling the persistent caresses of two young boys sitting at his feet, trying to push away the third one who had settled on his lap. A powerful shiver ran through him as he realized the absurdity of everything happening. Even in his worst nightmares, he had never encountered anything like this.

"Relax, little Ominis, and have fun," Marvolo whispered in his ear, and Ominis shuddered with fear and disgust when he felt his hot breath on his neck. He tried to move to the side, but the youth sitting on his lap pressed him against the back of the sofa with his whole body and began to unequivocally fidget with his hips. Ominis felt lips and tongue touch his neck following the breath and began to squirm furiously, trying to free himself. He felt terribly nauseous, and his muscles seemed to contract in spasms. He began to curse loudly, and these curses mixed with threats and pleas to stop it. But his attempts to break free were utterly futile: the three young boys held him firmly and securely. He felt a painful bite on his neck and screamed loudly, feeling tears welling up in the corners of his eyes.

"Calm down and don't annoy me, Ominis, or else your precious Sebastian will have to pay the price for you," Marvolo muttered, squeezing his fingers around the younger brother's throat. He fell silent and froze, trying to inhale, but then began to struggle with renewed vigor until the fingers on his throat completely cut off his access to oxygen, "I'm warning you for the last time."

Ominis' mouth helplessly opened, trying to let even a drop of oxygen into his body. He felt his consciousness slowly clouding, and his limbs gradually stopped obeying him. He didn't understand what had happened, but in the next moment, he found himself with his cheek pressed against the smooth parquet floor. Air was once again entering his lungs, piercing them with excruciating pain. Just as he thought about getting up, strong hands with a crunch twisted his forearms, gripping them behind his back. He couldn't hold back a scream, convinced that at least one of the bones had broken. Ominis began to struggle again, but heard the grinding of joints and felt the piercing pain even more intensely. He screamed, his voice breaking, and felt hot tears involuntarily tracing salty trails on his cheeks.

"Release me, you damn idiot!" his voice sounded nothing like the one he was used to hearing from himself. It was filled with savage rage and all-consuming fear. Ominis began to helplessly thrash beneath the heavy, rough body pinning him to the floor, like a rabbit caught in a trap. Panic overwhelmed him, making it impossible to think clearly, and forcing him to expend his last reserves of strength in futile, helpless struggles. The pain from tightly gripped wrists and twisted elbows, cutting like hot blades, shot up to his shoulders, neck, and even pierced his spine. Every attempt to even slightly alleviate it resulted in a new hellish flare-up. Ominis tried to use his legs to push Marvolo away or at least twist and kick him to make him loosen his grip on his forearms for a moment, but as soon as he moved, his ankles were ensnared by thin but strong fingers.

"Stop squirming, Ominis," a gruff whisper hissed in his ear, and he was hit by the smell of tobacco, whiskey, and sweat, "it will only get worse if you resist."

"Get off me, you moron!" Ominis shouted again, and a heavy hand forcefully pressed his face into the floor. Once more, there was a crunch, a disgusting metallic taste in his mouth, and the inability to breathe. After a few seconds, the hand released him for a moment, only to grab his hair. Ominis opened his mouth to inhale some air because his nose was clogged with blood. However, before he could fill his lungs halfway, his face met the floor again, though not as forcefully as the first time.

"I didn't want to ruin your pretty face, but you forced me," growled Marvolo as his hand abruptly grabbed Ominis' pants' waistband and pulled them down to his knees.

"No! No! Stop! Please!" Ominis' body again began to wriggle and shake in horror with renewed vigor, all remnants of anger, pride, reason disappeared, giving way to unbridled fear and attempts to somehow save himself, even if this would mean begging his tormentor for mercy. Ominis choked on blood and tears, fluttering with all his might, tearing his vocal cords to shreds, not realizing that even if someone outside this room heard him, no one would come to his aid. The last thing he heard before the entire lower half of his body was pierced by unbearable tearing pain was the quiet clinking of ice cubes in Vincent's glass.