Cursed

There were now only two shelves facing them.  Effie ran her fingers over the boxes on the right-hand shelf.  “Ah,” she smiled, pulling the next candidate.  “Vine,” she explained, pulling the top off of the box as she walked back towards them.  “Ten-and-a-half inches, but surprisingly swishy.  Phoenix feather core,” she added, before Ianto could ask.  She sat and held out the box.

Ianto stared at the wand for a moment before taking it.

“Vine,” Jack read as Ianto gathered his nerve.  “Less common, nearly always partners with witches and wizards who seek a greater purpose, who have a vision beyond the ordinary, and who frequently astound those who think they know them best.”  He grinned.  That was Ianto, all over.  Perhaps they had finally found his match.

“Wingardium leviosa.”

With a resounding whump, all of the magazines on the table burst into confetti.  Ianto practically threw the wand back into its box.

“Oh, dear,” Effie waved her wand, and the magazines returned, whole, to their place on the table.  She looked at Ianto and Jack and smiled.  Other than her regret over the basilisk horn incident, she seemed completely unperturbed by their lack of progress.  Ianto said as much, but she gently contradicted him. 

“On the contrary, we are making great progress.  But we are now looking exclusively at phoenix feather cores, so they are going to weigh in.  Again, your power is showing, but the wand is telling us it’s not quite the right fit.  But we are getting closer.”

“How is a confetti Quibbler closer than a flying one?” Ianto asked.

“Think of it as the difference between a deflection and a plain and simple, ‘no’,” she said, returning the box to the shelf and taking a moment to select another wand.  She returned with another box.  “I think the vine would work for you once you are fully recovered, but I think many of the reactions we have seen today reflect your need to feel safe.”  She pulled the top off and handed Ianto the box.  “Here.  Eleven-and-a-half-inch Rowan,” she said, before adding, “Swishy.”

Ianto took a good look at the wand and suddenly felt a bit less anxious.  He reached for the wand as Jack read, “Reputed to be more protective than any other,” nodding his approval.

“Wingardium leviosa.”

Everything on the table, including magazines, pumpkin juice glasses, and tea things, soared straight up, remained suspended in the air for a few moments, and then crashed back down onto the table in disarray.  Effie did a quick shield charm to protect them from any breakage, then cleaned up the mess.  She sent the glasses and tea things dancing towards the back room and turned a smiling countenance to Ianto and Jack.

“Well!  That was good progress, I’d say.  It did what you asked of it, but it’s still telling us we’re not quite there yet.”  She plucked the wand from Ianto’s lax fingers and returned it to its box.  Once she placed the box on its shelf, the latter returned to its normal place, standing end-on to the front of the shop.

“And then there was one,” Jack said, and Ianto tried very hard not to find the statement ominous.  He was still slightly anxious after a half dozen wands that his was not here.  Jack, sensing his lover’s unease, ran a hand up and down Ianto’s back comfortingly.  “Lucky number seven, coming up,” he smiled.  He leaned in when Ianto pouted for a kiss, and they did not hear Effie.

“Ah.  Of course.”  She plucked the box from the shelf and headed back over to them, resuming her seat.  “Here,” she smiled, handing Ianto the next box.

Ianto pulled the top off and stared.  It was a very unusual wand.  What he noticed first was that it was a bi-color wood, with the colors highly contrasting.  Its primary color was very pale, almost pure white, perhaps even pearly.  But the wood grain had deeply contrasting striations.  It looked as though someone had taken a bit from the tree and bleached it before washing over it with beet juice, leaving those striations a color that was undoubtedly called ‘red’, despite being a color that almost defied description.  It was not quite red, not quite purple, not quite pink, and yet all of those, if you looked closely enough.

The shape of the wand was also unusual.  Not highly worked or polished, it had an unusual shape that was thicker than most at the end meant to be held before tapering down to a point at the other end.  It had very much kept the shape of the branch from which it was made, gently curving one way and then another, though keeping an overall shape that was remarkably straight.  A knot in the wood had been preserved at the handle-end of the wand, and the shape reminded Ianto very vaguely of a bird’s head and beak.  If he softened his focus, he could almost make out the bird’s face, though he realized that was more an impression of the wood’s natural shape than anything to do with deliberate manipulation or artistry.

As he stared at it, he realized it felt as though he had just opened the door to his flat after a long day at work.  He looked up at Effie, afraid to hope.

“Cedar,” she smiled.  “Eleven inches, reasonably supple.  Phoenix feather core, of course.”

Jack smiled, reading, “Strength of character and unusual loyalty.  Gervaise Ollivander used to always say, ‘You will never fool the cedar carrier.’  The cedar wand will find its perfect home where there is perspicacity and perception.  Ooh!  He says here that he never met the owner of a cedar wand whom he would care to cross, especially if harm was done to those of whom they were fond.  Well, that’s true enough,” Jack opined.  “The witch or wizard who is well-matched with cedar carries the potential to be a frightening adversary, which often comes as a shock to those who thoughtlessly challenge them.” 

He grinned, then looked over at Ianto, who was still staring at what was, most likely, his wand.  Jack understood his trepidation, though, so he dove back into the book, looking up phoenix feather cores.

“It says here that phoenix feather is capable of the greatest range of magic.  They show the most initiative, sometimes acting of their own accord.  Freaky,” he editorialized, appreciating Ianto’s snort of humor before continuing.  “Phoenix feather wands are always the pickiest when it comes to potential owners, for the creature from which they are taken is one of the most independent and detached in the world.”

Ianto took a deep breath and pulled the wand from its box.  He was immediately surrounded by a golden glow as a sweet breeze lifted his hair and danced through his clothing.  He felt something warm and safe and true wash through him, and he smiled broadly, feeling his magic calm and begin to settle. 

He hadn’t been able to put his finger on it, but the return of his magic had left him feeling a bit unsettled.  It had been a wild, slightly uncomfortable feeling, like running down a steep hill.  He finally felt like he was back on level ground, and he felt…

“Oh, gods,” he choked on a sob, but this time it was pure joy and relief.

“Go on, then,” Effie smiled.

Ianto waved the wand in the now-familiar pattern.  “Wingardium leviosa.”

All of the magazines slowly lifted off of the table, floating gently through the air, though with a grace and a sense of order and calm that had been lacking during the previous attempts.  In a mesmerizing dance not dissimilar to the flight of the wand boxes they had seen earlier, the magazines floated and shuffled around before landing back on the table, now alphabetized by genre and displayed in a pleasing arrangement.

Jack gave a whoop of joy as Effie clapped and laughed with satisfaction.  Ianto stared at the wand in his hand, a delighted smile gracing his lips.  As Jack hugged him in congratulations, he leaned into the embrace willingly, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of the wand.  He was trying to parse out the many emotions surging through him.  Shock and relief and joy and peace and a sense of solidity that came with his magic beginning to feel more settled. 

It wasn’t that his magic hadn’t been anchored, of course, but the stress of not having a wand (and the fear that accompanied not knowing for sure that one would choose him) had kept him from feeling all the ways his magic had been gently reintegrating into his mind, body, and soul.  Now, with the fear and mental static cleared up and the wand helping him to focus on how his magic felt, he realized…

It felt damnedgood. 

It was like the wand had helped everything slot back into place.  Like it was the final piece of a puzzle that fitted perfectly with a satisfying click, completing a picture that was now beautiful and clear.  With all of the nonsense peeled away, he could feel his magic properly for the first time in seven and a half years, and it felt sublime.  He reveled in the feeling as Jack and Effie celebrated without him, leaving him a moment to himself to enjoy the sensation. 

After so much pain and deprivation, it was almost overwhelming, but with this final piece, he felt as though he had finally come home to a body that had been alien to him since his capture.  Everything was bright and beautiful and clear, and he felt a sense of calm and ease that was completely foreign, though not unwelcome.  He was finally able to fully appreciate the absence of pain, and he felt safe.  He loved and was loved in return, and it all culminated in a joy so vast and all-encompassing that he felt overwhelmed, for a moment.

Jack sat back and watched his lover with no small amount of satisfaction.  Seeing Ianto so completely joyous and… free… was something he could definitely get used to.  Many would likely fear that such a change in their lover might alienate them from one another, but Jack knew this could only bring them closer, because the more they learned of one another, the closer they grew.  And only if both were completely free from all that had been constraining them could they know each other fully.

Agile as always, Ianto only seemed to need a few minutes to regroup.  And if Jack was surprised by the triumphant snog Ianto planted on him in the next moment, he didn’t show it.  He grinned when Ianto released him, and they turned back to Effie, who had fetched three bottles of butterbeer, to celebrate.  After clinking the bottles and taking a long draught, Ianto let out a laugh of joy before taking a deep breath and getting back to business.

“Tell me about my wand, then,” he said, his entire being vibrating with happiness. 

***