I’m sure that everybody knows
How much my body hates me.
It lets me down most every time
And makes me rash and hasty.
I feel a total jerk before your naked body of work…
Sexuality!
Young and warm and wild and free!
Sexuality
Your laws do not apply to me!
Sexuality
Don’t threaten me with misery!
Sexuality
I demand equality!
Saturday 9th March 1991
“Have you seen my wand?!”
“Nope.”
“Bugger!”
“Where did you last have it?”
“If I knew that I wouldn’t be looking, would I?!”
“All right, all right, keep your hair on,” Grant emerged from the bathroom smelling of toothpaste and pantene. Remus had almost turned the living room upside down in his search. He stood in the middle of the mess, running his fingers anxiously through his hair.
“I’ve got a million exam sheets to mark today, I really need it…”
“Just do it without magic, like the rest of us mortals,” Grant shrugged, lifting the couch cushions to help him look.
“I can’t, I really need my wand…” Remus huffed, looking under the TV table.
“Shame there ain’t a spell to find it, eh,” Grant chuckled. Then he saw Remus’s face, and turned serious, raising his hand, “Ok, don’t worry, we’ll find it… right, last time you used it… er… when the lights went, last night, remember?”
“Oh yeah!” Remus rushed into the bedroom. They’d been having power cuts at least twice a week for the past month - Remus thought that was all over now the miners were back to work, but apparently not.
His wand had rolled under the bed. He snatched it up, relieved, and held it tight in his fist. “Thank Merlin.” He whispered to himself.
“Got it?” Grant asked, as Remus returned to the living room. Grant was straightening out the mess Remus had left. Remus flicked his wand triumphantly, and the room re-ordered itself. Grant made a noise of surprise and delight. “Clever clogs.” He grinned.
Remus poked his tongue out, and went to organise his pile of papers.
“Still don’t see why you need your wand - does it speed things up, or something?”
“No, I need it to read,” Remus replied, sitting down at the little dining table to work.
“Eh?”
“I have this spell that helps me read,” Remus said, “I never learnt how to do it properly at St Edmund’s.”
“You can’t read ?!” Grant hand his hands on his hips, staring at Remus in disbelief.
“Well, I can a bit …” Remus said, feeling defensive, “Just not very well - the words get all jumbled up, I dunno why.”
“Oh!” Grant said, sitting down next to him. “You’re dyslexic.”
“I’m what?” Remus frowned at him. He’d never heard that world before; it sounded like a spell.
“Dyslexic. They used to call it word-blind. Nothing wrong with your IQ, it’s the connection between your eyes and your brain or something… I read some about it when I was studying Education. Trying to get them to acknowledge it at work, I reckon a few of the boys need extra help, but the governor just reckons they’re thick.”
