By now, Harry had spent over three months in the time loop. At least, that was his best guess; knowing he had spent even half as long in the loop made everything hard to bear. He spent what he guessed was the hundredth day sulking, rarely talking, snapping whenever he did have to speak.
For the next fifteen days in the loop, Harry stayed in bed, pretending to be sick. He only moved to go to the bathroom, accepting food twice a day from Ron, Hermione, and Dobby, who usually assumed he was being honest. There was something addictive about letting his responsibilities go to the wayside, knowing that even if he chose to be stagnant, because of the time loop he wouldn't have to face the consequences. On the sixteenth day of this sluggishness, he emerged for dinner, carefully avoiding everyone's usual path—until Luna ran into him.
"Oh, hello, Luna."
"Hi, Harry. You look awful."
"Thanks."
"Are you alright? Do you need to talk about anything?"
Recently, he couldn't be bothered, but he duly told her they could talk after eating. They met up outside of the Great Hall and went to the library, where he explained everything to her in a whisper: the time loop, the diadem that would help stop Voldemort, and how he was discovering things about people for the first time.
"What sort of things?"
"Er, like, gossip. Who people fancy."
"Oh. Do you know who I fancy?"
"Yeah."
They looked at each other, both waiting for the other to speak.
"Er, you used to fancy Ginny."
Luna's eyebrows shot up.
"There's other people, too . . . people of the same sex who fancy each other, and anyhow—I'm tired, you know? Tired of living out the same day over and over, of spending my energy on figuring out how to end this damn thing, of not knowing how to help people once time returns to normal."
"Did something happen between you and someone else?" Luna had begun walking down the aisle, eying the shelves.
Goosebumps ran down Harry's arms. "What do you mean?"
"If you don't know what I mean, it's okay." She stopped and ran a finger over the books on a shelf at her eye level, smiled when she found the book she was looking for, and pulled it out. "In my second year at Hogwarts, I discovered these books hidden away throughout the library. They all have characters or romances between people of the same sex. There's a few about queer history as well."
Dimly, Harry wondered why she'd used the word queer. He then wondered how he had been so oblivious of all of this.
She seemed to know what he was thinking. "Part of life is learning how much you don't know about the world. It can seem frustrating or shameful, which is why many people reject new information. As you continue discovering, I hope you can make peace with the unknown."
"Luna, if there's one thing I've learned in the loop, it's that your ages beyond anyone at this school."
Luna's face went pink and she continued, "The books erase your name after you return them. That way, students who read the books are protected." Catching the shift in Harry's expression, she added, "Anyone can read them. But not everyone wants to—by disguising a book as something uninteresting, most people wouldn't give it a second thought, right?"
"Right."
"Unless you're a very particular kind of Ravenclaw." Luna flipped the book over and showed Harry the description. "'Madam Opticia details the many spells one can use to properly dress a bed . . . ' and it goes on. Seems too dull."
"So how d'you figure it's about something else?"
"Look here, on the spine below the title. There's a symbol—a tiny unicorn. See?"
"Oh, you're right." When Luna titled it toward the light, the unicorn glinted a dark metallic color.
"Why a unicorn?"
"It's a symbol for the gay community. I found that out when there was an article about queer wizard rights in The Quibbler." Tapping the unicorn symbol, Luna said, "Verbum Aparecium!" The letters shifted, warped, shrunk, and grew until Madam Opticia on Household Charms and Everyday Cleaning Spells had become Merit and Memory by Octavia Whorl.
"A romance novel?"
"It's a story from the late 1700s, probably the most famous novel by a British witch. Most people don't know the author originally wrote it as a romance between two men, but the publisher refused to publish it unless she changed one of their genders. This is the only edition that was printed as she intended."
Luna led him to a different aisle, where they loitered until a nearby student left. Pulling out a slim blue volume, she said, "I haven't read this one yet; I think you would enjoy it. It's called On His Wings."
She took Harry through the entirety of the accessible part of the library, piling books in his arms as she went. Although Madam Pince gave them a suspicious look when they presented their unlikely finds, she let them check out the lot—six books to each.
Back in his dorm, Harry picked what seemed to be the least daunting book to read first: Year at the Swansea Inn. It was a hundred pages and had a simple green and gold cover. The synopsis on the back of the book read:
"Henry was just like any other man. Apart from his being a woman, that is. After leaving her abusive husband, Henriette transfigures her features and journeys from France to start a trip around the world as 'HENRY.' But on Henry's first night at a Welsh inn outside of Swansea, an alluring woman piques her interest, leading both to question everything they thought about themselves and what they want."
It took Harry a couple of distraction-fraught hours to get to the middle of the book. At this point, the two main characters went up to Henry's room at the Inn.
⁎ ⁑ ⁂ ⁑ ⁎ ⁑ ⁂ ⁑ ⁎
"I must ask you not to step any closer." He sat upon the bed, his back facing Catherine. The flicker of the candlelight played tricks on Catherine's eyes, sputtering and flickering brightly so that shadows danced across Henry's skin. Catherine knew a few men of high standing whose particular grace and soft countenance gave them the appearance of a lady, blessed with beauty so fair that even men in their presence could not help but speak flatteringly and in a manner suitable to women. Never had those handsome men approached the fineness of this man's hair, loosed from its plait, over the silk-white smoothness of his shoulders.
"Why have you suddenly become shy, now that you have invited me to your room?" asked Catherine. "You are modest, but I endeavor to flatter you by admiring the delicacy of your features, which even now, not complemented by the countenance that attracted me to you, make me praise God for fashioning you."
"Were I to turn around, I would reveal what I have concealed in fear of your rejection."
"Surely you, so languid in your movements and high born, have not been disfigured by the throes of battle? I do not wish for you to reply, for it matters not; the scarring of the body does not condemn the soul. You should not be ashamed of this before me when I could only judge your face and stature upon our meeting. If you have scars, it is only a reflection of your bravery, of God's realization that he molded you too beautifully and believed your perfection would lead you to vanity."
Henry drew a blanket around himself and turned to regard her. "You must promise me that when I reveal myself, you will not cry for help or run away."
"If it shall ease your anxiety, I promise I will not. Is there nothing I can do to earn your trust? It is a slight against my honor that you assure I am so weak-minded that the unexpected moves me to faint."
"I intended no such offense. There is no need to prove your honor, for even the most noble of women would blush at the sight of me. I am not scarred, nor disfigured. In fact, admiration for my features is what compelled me to conceal myself. I told you I am fleeing marriage to a woman, but actually, I am fleeing marriage to a man." At last, Henriette turned to face Catherine.
Catherine's cheeks reddened. She attempted averting her eyes, but found herself unable to do so.
Henriette finally appeared as she was, her white breasts and round hips immediate evidence of what her clothing had obscured. "My name is Henriette."
Perhaps Catherine had known all along that Henry was a woman, swayed otherwise merely by a hope that her disinterest in men would at long last be resolved. As a girl, she had wished for a man so beautiful she could love him.
She knew she ought to be angry, or at the very least frightened, but she could only stare at the magnificent wight before her. "Man or woman, a creature as beautiful as you must never be neglected if there is to be any hope for us mere mortals." Catherine sat beside Henriette on the edge of the bed. "God has brought me to you as a test of my devotion, sending you to remind me of his most divine creations."
"Misleading you brought me no joy, Catherine, and I have to apologize for my deception. Hearing your words has revived and enlivened me! Come closer, so that we may please Love and your god."
The two lovers became one, each touch and embrace more passionate than the last— ⁎ ⁑ ⁂
Harry's blood ran hot. A memory struck him, and he knew it hadn't crossed his mind since the first time since he experienced it: when he was about nine, Aunt Petunia had apparently watched news coverage about some popular soap opera showing a kiss between two men, because she told Vernon about it in a whisper and fixated on the incident for weeks after, tutting about the state of the country and the effect it would have on the children.
In his attempts to understand what the fuss was about, Harry quickly looked through the newspaper Petunia had been reading, only to become more confused. Why was it wrong? Why did it matter at all?
The next day, Harry told Luna about the loop again and asked her to choose another book. She chose Merit and Memory, the edition of the popular romance novel with its originally intended genders.
⁎ ⁑ ⁂ ⁑ ⁎ ⁑ ⁂ ⁑ ⁎
Mr. Finley had captured the attention of the entire party, being tall and handsome with striking features, and with two hundred Galleons a year to his name. ⁎ ⁑ ⁂
Reading the book as though it were about a man and a woman was fairly easy, though until the end Harry couldn't tell who would've remained a man and who would've been changed to a woman.
⁎ ⁑ ⁂ ⁑ ⁎ ⁑ ⁂ ⁑ ⁎
"There's a letter for you, Roger."
"From whom?"
Before Ailsa could respond, Roger had read the name; the letter was addressed from Mr. Finley.
"Your face is quite red, surely you don't still have feelings for this man after how rudely he treated you? Has he heard of your engagement?"
"While I wish I could assure you there is nothing he could say to sway my affections once more, that would require lying to you as well as myself." With that, he left the room to read the letter in peace.
To my dear Roger,
I had to write you as soon as I learned of your engagement to Ms. Livon, as I do not wish to cause you distress by visiting you in person, nor do I want to risk losing you forever. First, I must apologize for my opacity and misguided approach to what I hoped would result in more amiable relations between us.
It is with deep shame that I tell you the rumors you have heard about my past are true, though society has a tendency to make demons out of sinners. In my youth, I became enamored with a friend, Ms. Sophie Minnoway, whom I knew since birth, for once she was of marrying age, I began to see her in a new light, and it is in that light that we began an affair. She was a most desirable companion, so it was only natural that I intended to marry her, but given my opaque nature I failed to express such intentions to her. Before I could properly explain myself, she was called abruptly to London to see her father, who had fallen gravely ill. While living in the city, she began to notice signs that she was with child, and in her panic, perhaps exacerbated by the impurities of the city, sought treatment to terminate her pregnancy by non-magical means, so as not to raise suspicion.
Had I known of her condition, I would have pledged to marry her, but rather than receive a letter from her of the happy news, I received a letter from her mother, who suffered two deaths in one week, and in knowing we were close friends, suspected that I was somehow responsible. Although it was not by my own hand that she passed, I was distraught and pledged her mother a yearly sum on which she could live comfortably.
This unfortunate story brings me great pain, and though I was not yet nineteen years of age at the time, the foolish actions of my past have made me hesitant to follow my heart in uncertain matters. Now you can perhaps understand why I behaved so appallingly toward you, as inexcusable as it was when I insulted you last fall.
The greatest pain I could feel is to learn you feel disgust for my inclinations toward the baser sex. In the weeks since our last encounter, I realized I was too presumptuous and my carelessness risked both of our reputations.
You and your fiancée will be able to build a happy life together, free of such pain that I have inflicted on you, and in accordance with the norms dictated by respectable society. Soon I will undertake the same responsibility and ask for you not to worry needlessly about my wellbeing. May you be blessed with a happy marriage and many healthy children.
With the warmest affection,
Jonathan Finley ⁎ ⁑ ⁂
The last few chapters of the book followed Roger breaking his engagement, a dramatic reunion at Mr. Finley's estate, and (to Harry's surprise) marriage. An editor's note clarified that final event: an epilogue describing "Rhona" and Jonathan's marriage had been added to the published text, so he took the liberty of altering the final part of the book to give Roger the same ending.
To Harry's surprise, the books had effectively distracted him from the time loop. Living through someone else and experiencing their life's dramas pushed his own hardship further and further away.
The next book Harry chose, Carmilla, was an Irish Muggle novella from the nineteenth century, included in the library because the author had experienced wizarding society via his Muggleborn cousin.
⁎ ⁑ ⁂ ⁑ ⁎ ⁑ ⁂ ⁑ ⁎
The woman wore pale silk robes that matched the color of her breasts. Her long hair was black as night, her eyes deep as the charred remains in the fireplace. No woman could rival her beauty, nor could any painter capture her likeness.
She approached Thérèse's bed, white skin glowing in the moonlit chamber. Her lips parted and she bent down to reap the warm lifeblood from Thérèse's sleeping form.
Her teeth pierced the soft skin of the poor woman, who felt only the vampire's lips. ⁎ ⁑ ⁂
Something about the vampire-human romance both intrigued and unnerved Harry. The vampire Carmilla only reminded him of the vampire at Slughorn's party earlier that year and how some girls had fawned over him.
Between this book and the other two he'd read, he was surprised that literature with same-sex romance went so far back in history.
When he asked Hermione whether she had ever read a book with a gay character, she looked surprised and said, "Why?"
"I—it's something I was wondering."
She stared at him, then began awkwardly, "Hm, Invisible Man, arguably The Picture of Dorian Gray . . . Let me think. I've been meaning to read The Color Purple—"
"Are those all Muggle books?"
"Yes, they are." Her face crinkled with confusion. "Come to think of it, I don't think I've read a wizarding book with, you know . . ."
"Right."
Harry brushed off her follow-up questions, his own concentration giving him a headache. He'd never felt this way about reading before, but he just wanted to be back in bed with another book to distract him.
Although Luna hadn't yet read it, he decided next to try reading On His Wings.
⁎ ⁑ ⁂ ⁑ ⁎ ⁑ ⁂ ⁑ ⁎
"Eugh, it's dead!" The little black boy jumped back from the white-bellied frog.
"You never seen a dead frog before?" asked Akiva. He found the other child very curious, particularly his gangly limbs and long eyelashes. "Are you a girl?"
The stranger puffed out his chest. "I'm a boy!" He rubbed his close-shaved head and kicked a pebble at Akiva.
"Hey! Go away, you're annoying me."
"And you're mean." The boy came closer and crouched down on the other side of the frog. "Are you a No-Maj?" he asked in a whisper.
Akiva shook his head. "No. Are you a wizard?"
"Kinda. I ain't got much magic."
"Oh. Did you move here recently?"
"Yeah. I'm from Alabama. I'm starting school here soon."
"How old are you?"
"Ten."
"Then we'll be going to Ilvermorny at the same time!"
"I ain't going." The boy sank his head down close to his knees.
"Because you don't have magic?"
The boy nodded. Suddenly, his arm shot out and he poked the frog in its stomach.
"What're you doing? You're the one who—" Akiva stopped mid-sentence. The frog wiggled into life, flipping back on its feet. Then it hopped away as though nothing had happened. Akiva gawked at the other boy. "How'd you do that?"
"I thought I was annoying." The boy lifted his head, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.
"Well . . . Say, what's your name?"
"Gannett."
"I'm Akiva. So how'd you do that?"
"My parents say the only reason I got magic is cause I absorbed my wizard twin in the womb."
"You killed your twin?"
"I guess. But now I can bring plants and small animals back from the dead."
"If my cat dies, could you heal her?"
Gannett stood up, chin level with the top of Akiva's head. "I could try."
"Then I want you to be my friend." Akiva held out his hand, and they shook on it. ⁎ ⁑ ⁂
The next several chapters of the book detailed the growing friendship between Gannett and Akiva and the summers they spent together once Akiva came back from Ilvermorny.
Each chapter alternated between the two boys' perspectives, so that Harry started to tell the differences in how the two were attracted to the same sex. Akiva had mostly female friends, and they stayed up late in diners discussing the girls' "silly crushes." Akiva never genuinely liked any of the girls but went along with it if they wanted to date him.
Gannett, on the other hand, while attending a small boarding school for No-Maj students, experimented with boys. Whenever he returned home, his parents set him up to meet girls in the area. They were convinced he had to meet a girl early so she didn't have the sense to date a fully-fledged wizard instead.
Harry only realized the book (though written in the 80s) took place in the early 60s when it mentioned racial segregation in Muggle society, as well as the passing of stricter anti-Muggle laws, which Gannett's family supported. It also mentioned Akiva's Jewish mother had fled Germany between the World Wars before settling in Atlanta, Georgia.
Over the summer before their final year at school, Gannett and Akiva visited New Orleans together.
⁎ ⁑ ⁂ ⁑ ⁎ ⁑ ⁂ ⁑ ⁎
"Is there anything else you want to do before we go home?" asked Akiva, studying his friend.
"I always wanted to have my fortune read."
"Okay, let's find a fortune teller who has actual magic."
It only took Gannett and Akiva a couple of minutes to find an elderly witch posted at a booth with a sign outside that said "30 minute wait—take a number." As they waited, the boys bought beignets and sat on a bench to relax in the cool breeze.
Akiva considered Gannett. "Why do you want your fortune read?"
"I guess I need some direction. My parents want me to marry the wealthy daughter of a family friend, and I know I will feel nothing for her."
Akiva had a brief fluttering of hope in his chest, but he didn't know what it meant. "How can you be so sure?"
Gannett was silent. His braided hair fell past his shoulders, making him as beautiful as the day Akiva met him.
"Your tastes are different, aren't they?" asked Akiva slowly, giving extra weight to his words. He wiped some powdered sugar off of Gannett's mouth, thumb lingering a second too long on his lower lip.
Gannett looked at him. "Mine are, as well."
They both glanced around to see if anyone was paying them any mind.
"I can Disapparate if anyone gives us trouble," said Akiva quietly.
"Good idea." Gannett leaned in and kissed him, hand gripping Akiva's shirt collar. By the ease of Gannett's mouth, he had clearly done this before.
This kiss affected Akiva differently than the times he had kissed girls. Initially shocked and embarrassed, he soon recognized his reaction as butterflies in his stomach. ⁎ ⁑ ⁂
Harry couldn't help but reflect on his reaction to Draco. Had the swooping in his stomach meant something else? Except Gannett and Akiva were much different—their kiss had been years in the making, so right—it was not at all what Harry had experienced. It wasn't.
As Harry read the next few pages, the room faded away to his flushed face, the pages of the book, and his pounding heart. Some part of him knew he shouldn't be reading it, but there was no one around, and it was in a Hogwarts library book, after all.
⁎ ⁑ ⁂ ⁑ ⁎ ⁑ ⁂ ⁑ ⁎
When they parted, Gannett said, "I can't do this anymore. My wife—she'll use magic to figure it out."
The look on Akiva's face told Gannett all he needed to know: silent tears ran down his cheeks.
"I promise you, Akiva, I'll never forget you." ⁎ ⁑ ⁂
The ending of the book took place a decade later. Gannett and Akiva saw each other again for the first time in all those years at a party and pretended to be mere acquaintances. The tragedy of it left Harry with an itching frustration that only a better conclusion could scratch. Once again meeting up with Luna, he said to her, "Please tell me the other books you recommended have happier endings."
"What would you consider a happy ending?"
"To start, neither character dies. It wouldn't hurt if they ended up together." Luna considered him, her blue eyes boring into his. "You're using the stories to escape. I understand. It's why I like reading. I wish it were easier to find books where everything works out in the end, but that isn't how life works, is it?" Still, she found a couple books that fit his requirements. "Start with this book, but skip this story, this, and this one, too."
The first book was collection of short stories that look place around or during World War I. In one story, an Irishwoman named Alexandria stayed behind to take care of her newborn while her husband went off to work abroad for the government. Her best friend Catriona, a spinster in her late 30s, was the manager at a major potions manufacturer. Concerned about leaving Alexandria alone to care for the baby, Catriona offered to use Polyjuice Potion to transfigure into the husband so the baby would grow up with his two parents. Using a cache of the husband's hair, the two spent the next year living together. Around Christmas, Alexandria begins missing her husband more and kisses Catriona in her transfigured state.
They become lovers. From then on, Catriona is only ever her in her real body at work. Harry couldn't tell whether Alexandria loved Catriona in return until the end of the story.
⁎ ⁑ ⁂ ⁑ ⁎ ⁑ ⁂ ⁑ ⁎
"Catriona, I received a letter from Franklin."
"Oh? What did he say? Is he returning soon?" Catriona tried her best to mask her true feelings.
"He's coming back in two days."
"Do you want me to pack my things?"
"No." Alexandria bit her lip. "I don't want you to leave. Catriona, I love you both."
Catriona magicked herself back into her body. "You only love me when when I'm him."
"I could never see you as him. The things you've said to me, the ways you've touched me, it's all different." ⁎ ⁑ ⁂
Shivers ran down Harry's arms, as they always did just as a book reached a major turning point. Alexandria told her husband everything about the past two years and how she loved them both, and with time, he agreed to let Catriona live with them. The three of them lived together until they died of old age.
Another book with a (relatively) happy ending was a graphic novel illustrated by a British Punjabi artist. Called "Queue Query," the semi-autobiographical book was nearly like an animated film, using text like subtitles under some of the illustrations to explain the story. Its protagonist Omar was the son of Indian immigrants, one witch and one Muggle. He grew up loving tandoori chicken and watching Muggle TV on Saturdays, routines he had to abandon at Hogwarts in favor of hardly-seasoned food and spotty radio. Over the course of his studies, he missed his family and friends terribly, and was relieved to return home to London after graduation.
In the fall after he turned eighteen, he went to Tesco for groceries, loaded up a basket, and waited in the checkout queue. The young man behind him glanced at his basket, then said, "Oh, damn, I forgot butter. Will you save my spot?" A little American flag sprung from his mouth to illustrate his accent. Before Omar could reply, the man had rushed off. After a minute, he returned and half-apologized, half-thanked Omar.
"No worries."
"Hey, do you know any good places to eat around here? I'm studying abroad and the city's huge."
They both checked out at Tesco, and Omar got his mailing address. While at first the illustration of the American named Tyrell had appeared plain, he appeared increasingly attractive through Omar's eyes. By the end of their inevitable date around the city, Harry was swept up enough by how charming their relationship was that he forgot to be worried about complications. Thankfully, it was left for him to wonder how long they stayed together after their shared week in London.
Finding he rather liked short stories, Harry chose a volume of West African folk tales and legends to read. Of the stories in the volume, his favorite was a legend called "Luwam and the Water Spirits." In a small mixed-magic desert community in the place Muggles call Ethiopia, there is a tradition among children when they reach puberty: each child spends a year creating a work of art to present to the water deities and their mother, Mami Wata. The deities then determine whether the area will receive rain or drought that year. After five years of very little rain, the village decides to provide the only child coming of age that year with extra time so they can make their project worthy of opening up the skies.
The person chosen, and the story's main character, was an 18-year-old named Luwam who had some body parts of a man and some of a woman. While initially confused, Harry realized "they" referred to the teenager, who was neither male nor female.
⁎ ⁑ ⁂ ⁑ ⁎ ⁑ ⁂ ⁑ ⁎
"What have you brought us, beautiful one?"
"A sculpture that moves with the sun and moon."
They sat and watched it for hours. It was composed of two spheres connected by an invisible thread, and as they said, the closed-eye face followed the sun's course below the horizon, while the open-eyed face watched the moonrise.
"This pleases us," said one deity. "But to restore rain, we ask that you to join our oasis. If you do as we ask, we will bestow fifty years of rain on your village."
Luwam agreed, and the moon rose, entering the beings' realm. They were loved as one of the Mami Wata's own, and some of their offspring returned to the village. Those with the name "Luwam" are said to descend from the beautiful one who forged harmony between poles. ⁎ ⁑ ⁂
After reading this, Harry asked Luna if there was such a thing as being neither or both sexes, or if that part of the story was made up.
"Yes, there are some people born that way, you can't necessarily tell. Someone close to me was born intersex. He didn't find out until he was a teenager. And he doesn't tell other people, so I don't think I can tell you at the moment."
"Oh! No, no, of course not. Huh, and every time I think I've learned it all . . ."
"Have I recommended you read Hear Your Brothers and Sisters, the Ones Who Cast Fire?"
"No, you haven't. What's it about?"
"It's nonfiction, it might help answer some of your questions."
The book was organized into thirty-five chapters, each focused on a particular topic. He found many of the other topics to be beyond his current level of understanding. Perhaps one day, though, the complexity of the theories and history would seem less daunting. For learning on his own, Harry thought little more could be expected of him.
The five chapters he chose to read were "RIOTS—The History of QTW Rebellions," "Transfiguration—Changing Shape, Changing Norms," "RACIAL INTERSECTIONS—Queer and Trans Wix of Color," "THE 90s—What's in Store for the QTW Rights Movement," and "LABELS—Muggle Influence from Homosexual to Queer."
⁎ ⁑ ⁂ ⁑ ⁎ ⁑ ⁂ ⁑ ⁎
TRANSFIGURATION: Changing Shape, Changing Norms
Since recorded history, magic has allowed wixes to change their appearance. Whereas Muggles largely use clothing and grooming techniques to manifest their self-expression and selfhood, wixes have used potions and spells . . . the importance of reproduction has been emphasized in many wix cultures since non-magic populations have dwarfed magic populations, making transfiguration a common if not temporary solution . . .
LABELS: Muggle Influence from Homosexual to Queer
For centuries, British wixes who deviated from cisgender male-female sexual relationships were either lumped with societal deviants more generally, or considered to have some "inclination" that did not constitute an identity. After the Muggle community began to change their opinions about and legislation regarding Muggles with same- and multiple-gender attraction, some opinions began to change in the wix community . . .
The queer and transgender wizarding community, or QTW community, was a label popularized in the 1960s, after activist Wren Liu introduced it in the well-known critical essay "Queer Magic." In the 1980s, the gender-neutral "wix" surpassed "wizard" in common usage amongst the community, as feminists advocated for a more inclusive term . . .
Muggle communities have historically been escapes for marginalized wix, particularly because they are much larger, and the use of magic can be hidden from them. Additionally, the dating pool is too small in an already claustrophobic society, leading many queer wix to find partners among Muggles, importing non-magic terminology and ideas to the wix community . . . ⁎ ⁑ ⁂
Harry scanned through the text, searching for bolded words, subheadings, something to break up the wall of text.
⁎ ⁑ ⁂ ⁑ ⁎ ⁑ ⁂ ⁑ ⁎
Gay: adjective, describes a person who is exclusively attracted romantically and/or sexually to the same gender. Can be used to describe women, and the term has superseded lesbian (see above) in common usage . . .
Bisexual: adjective, describes a person who is romantically and/or sexually attracted to people regardless of gender (see pansexual). Often shortened to "bi." ⁎ ⁑ ⁂
So that was his mother. Remus. Luna.
He ignored the part of him that whispered, And you?