Cursed

It had been a bit after eight in the evening when they started, candles and incense lit, stones and potions and talismans circling the pallet on the floor where Ianto had been placed.  The bed and other furniture had been magicked away, and Jack stepped into the circle that had been created and pulled Ianto into his arms.

“We can’t guarantee this will be safe for you,” Bill warned.

“I’m not leaving him,” Jack muttered calmly, focusing his attention on the beautiful wizard in his arms.

“Jack?” Ianto frowned.  “What’re you…”

“Shhh.  I’m here with you, Ianto.  They’re going after more of the curses, now.  Just hang on to me.”

It wasn’t as terrible as the capstone, but it was ugly.  Once he knew what he was looking for, Bill was able to break the hidden curse.  With Susan checking in and monitoring Ianto’s condition, they worked through the night, breaking the remaining curses.

Some of them defended themselves with more cutting and slashing.  And some were more subtle, only showing their damage as bruises began to bloom on Ianto’s fair skin.  One actually cracked bones.  Susan was tireless in checking him over frequently, and relentless in administering spells and counter-curses to heal the damage.

By mid-morning the next day, Bill was confident that the last curse had been broken.  Magical canisters littered the room, holding the dark sludge that each of the curses had released, when broken. 

They only had one way to test to see if all of the curses were gone.  Bill gave Jack an apologetic look before saying, very clearly, “Neville Longbottom.”

Ianto flinched but was otherwise unharmed.

“Neville?” Bill knelt next to where Jack cradled him.  “Can you ask us for something?”

Ianto tried to catch his breath.  “Can you…” he drew in another breath, “call me Ianto?”

“Sure,” Bill frowned, wondering why Neville didn’t want to be called by his own name.  He shook his head and asked, “And can you tell me how they captured you?”

“Broke into my flat,” Ianto whispered.  “Waiting for me…” he trailed off.

Bill was relieved that nothing had been triggered.  He checked one more time, but he was certain there were no more curses, unless there was something hiding beneath the binding.  He moved away to have a moment to himself, to regroup after the exhausting night.

Ianto was a quivering mess in Jack’s arms, beginning to gibber incoherently in Welsh as Susan checked him over, once again.  She called in more Healers to help get Ianto cleaned up and dressed and settled into a newly conjured, soft, comfortable bed.  He lost consciousness as Jack tucked the blanket around him.

It had been a long couple of days, and Jack was finally at the end of his own endurance, so once he’d cleaned himself up and donned the clean robes Susan had conjured for him, he found himself nodding in the chair next to Ianto’s bed throughout the rest of the day.  Thankfully, Hermione had taken pity on him and had conjured an exceptionally comfortable chair before they all left to find their own rest.

They agreed to reconvene at eight that evening, but everyone started showing up around seven, to find Jack sitting on the bed facing Ianto, spooning soup into his mouth and talking animatedly about some adventure, or other.  It was clear that Ianto was not attending Jack’s words, but he was deriving great comfort from the sound of his lover’s voice.

“I don’t think he’s understood anything I’ve said, but he gets a little agitated, if I stop talking, for too long,” Jack explained.

“What do you mean, he doesn’t understand?” Susan asked, pulling out her wand.

“He’s just a little overwhelmed,” Jack smiled at Ianto reassuringly.  “Isn’t that right, Love?”

Ianto blinked at Jack.  He gave no other response but opened his mouth for another spoonful of soup.

Susan nodded.  “It’s simple overload and exhaustion.  He’s processing tone, but not content.  It’s temporary.”  She looked at Jack.  “You’re taking that in stride.”

Jack looked a bit cagey.  “I’ve had training in telepathy.  He was freaking out a little bit, so I did some basic soothing exercises.  It let me see that he’s okay.  Just a little nonverbal, right now.”  He reached out and brushed his fingers along Ianto’s cheek before running them through his hair.  Ianto’s eyes fluttered closed as he leaned into the gentle touch.

Hermione sat gingerly on the other side of the bed as Susan continued her examination.  “So I couldn’t help but notice,” she said, looking a bit uncertain.  “He was speaking Welsh, earlier.”

Jack smiled.  “He told me one time that he hadn’t learnt it, growing up, but decided he wanted to.  He entered an immersive program at university.  Got shipped off to a college in Wales his second and third year.  They only spoke Welsh, and he finished all of his basic requirements and even some of his major coursework there, all in Welsh, no English allowed.  Said by the end of it he was thinking in Welsh, which is the trick to mastering a language.  Far as I know, he still does.  He slips into Welsh when he’s tired or injured, so I think it… what?”

Susan was staring, wide-eyed.  “He couldn’t reverse it, so he used the curse to solidify the new identity.”

Hermione nodded excitedly.  “He figured out how to harness the energy of the curse to anchor the language.  He’s…  He’s actually Welsh, now.” 

Bill chuckled, looking grudgingly impressed.

“I don’t understand,” Ron said, his expression matching his words.  “Why?”

“He took control of the one thing he could,” Hermione said.  “He couldn’t be Neville anymore, so he… created Ianto.”

Jack’s attention never wavered from Ianto.  He gave his lover another spoonful of soup and said, “I was really surprised to hear you all say that he was English, the other night.  Kept thinking you’d better not let Ianto hear you call him English.  You’ll get a thumping.”  He put the spoon down and looked around at them.  “It’s like you said.  He couldn’t be Neville anymore.  So he's not.  You’re all looking for Neville, but I don’t think you’re going to find him, other than in the basic things, like his strength and courage and loyalty.  And you need to be okay with that.”

They were all nodding, but it hurt.  To have found him, only to realize that he would never be the person they lost.  Their friend Neville was almost entirely gone, but Jack hoped they would at least try to befriend Ianto.

Ron shrugged.  “Me, I’m looking forward to getting to know Ianto.  He’s even more of a badass than Neville was.  I mean, aliens?”  He smiled at Ianto, who blinked.

Hermione and Harry were looking blankly at Ron, and he frowned.  “What?  The Carrows took him and tortured him and did all of this stuff to him, but he’s still here.  He’s right here,” Ron gestured at Ianto emphatically.  “He might not be the Neville we remember, but he could be dead.  Or he could be on Ward 49, not being anyone at all.  But instead, he decided to be Ianto Jones, who sounds like one hell of a bloke.” 

Maybe Ianto was just picking up on tone, or maybe he was regaining some of his verbal capacity, but in the next moment, he beamed at Ron, and Jack thought it was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen.  Jack decided in that moment that Ron Weasley might be a bit of a knucklehead, but he was damned good people.

“Well said, Brother,” Bill clapped Ron on the shoulder.  “We never made enough of an effort, with Neville.  This is a second chance.”

Ianto didn’t seem to react to that as he accepted more soup from Jack.  Once he finished, Jack turned to Bill.  “Will this be as fun as the rest?”

Bill shrugged.  “It will be difficult.  And knowing the effort the Carrows put into this web of curses, there may be something nasty beneath the binding.  But there’s only one way to find out, and as I break the binding, Hermione will be on the lookout for any surprises.”

They had all brought satchels of tools and tinctures, charms and potions, stones and objects meant to assist in breaking the curses that had Ianto spellbound.  It would release his magic, and free him of the greatest torment the Carrows had inflicted upon him. 

Jack spent a few moments checking in with Ianto telepathically, determining that he understood what was about to happen and making sure he was as ready as he could be, in the circumstances.

It would later be explained to Jack that it takes a good deal of dark magic to get and keep a witch or wizard spellbound.  Residing within Voldemort’s inner circle, Amycus and Alecto Carrow had been among the most accomplished practitioners of the dark arts, and they had been more than equal to the task.  The curse was tight and robust, and unravelling it took every bit as much talent, if not more.

Bill had been doing this sort of thing ever since the war had ended, and he was absolutely the best wizard for the job.  Hermione, Ron, and Harry had assisted him often, and Susan’s experience on Ward 49 made her a valuable addition to the team that would ultimately free Ianto’s magic. 

The process was long, complicated, and caused a good deal of physical pain and mental anguish.  It took ten hours of intensive work, but finally, as dawn approached, the final tendril of the binding snapped.

Ianto’s body bowed off of the pallet as he let out a blood-curdling scream.  Jack wrapped his arms around his lover and tried to hold him as the magic ripped and roiled around them.  A thick cloud of bluish violet energy swirled around them, like a beautiful tornado.  Lightning bolts and electrical charges had the others casting shield charms to protect themselves as they tried to determine what was happening.

“It’s another hidden curse!” Bill shouted above the whirlwind that was whipping through the room. 

Hermione reinforced the protective spells that kept all of the turbulent activity confined to the room.

“What’s happening?” Ron hollered.

“It stirred up his magic so it went wild when we released it, and it has either blocked or extinguished the spark of vortex that would normally anchor it,” Bill replied, dismayed.  “His own magic is going to tear him apart!”  

He had no idea how to stop this…

***