The Scarlett Letter

A/N: Just another brief warning of the R-rating. See first chapter for more details on what that includes.

Disclaimer: Yeah, I've had a sex change and have suddenly become J.K. Rowling. Wait, I'm not taking the sex change just to own Harry Potter; I'd rather forgo pregnancy and periods, thank you very much. I'll just stay Islander, and J.K. can have Harry Potter.

Chapter Two

A Major Issue

Excerpts from the first issue of The Scarlett Letter. On the glossy cover Scarlett had splattered a huge picture of her bikini-clad self across the background of a lavish bedroom with a large, flower-bejeweled bed:

A Quick Biography

My name is Scarlett, and I am eighteen years old and currently live in England. I was born in America, but moved to this lovely country when I was five. I attended Lakeland Grammar School up to fifth grade, then received a private magical education from a variety of elite French tutors.

One of my tutors took me to visit Paris when I was fifteen, and oh what a lovely city it is! The city of love, or of making love (it's all the same to me)! It wasn't long after that that I took a great interest in the intricacies of anatomy and the human body, which has led me where I am today.

When I turned eighteen in September, I was faced with a myriad of career possibilities. I considered working in a brothel or strip club, but only briefly. The idea struck me as too low in the prestige category. So I decided to become a porn star.

Imagine my horror when I found that the English wizards have not yet started a porn film industry! I mean, just because films were invented by Muggles doesn't mean that wizards should find them too low to take advantage of. So, for the past few months I've been campaigning to start such an enterprise. I've got quite a bit of approval for the idea, but many of the Purebloods are a bit skeptical that a Muggle technology could garner so many galleons. Those Death Eater types are especially a problem, what with their supremacist attitudes and their scorn of everything that wasn't invented by wizards. So I'd appreciate it if you guys could send some letters to those men in my support--I'd really appreciate it!

In the meantime, I have to content myself with the French magical porn industry, which is in its birthing stages. I've just started filming for a minor part in "Grand Bâton" ("Big Stick") and have also attached myself to a major role in "La Baguette Magique Choisit la Sorcière" ("The Wand Chooses the Witch"). I have also applied for a few films in the Muggle business, including "The Back Entrance", "Making and Manufacturing Love", and "The Endless Chasm". The last one includes some truly quirky digital effects that you absolutely cannot miss! Sadly, though, the first of these movies isn't slated to be released until this summer, so you guys will have to wait to see me on the silver screen. . .

~~~~~

What It Takes--A poem by Scarlett

When I was very young

Guys loved me very much

They longed to use their tongue--

It's me they longed to touch.

When I became a teen,

They loved me even more.

My bod was curved and lean,

They fell upon the floor.

And now I'm all grown up,

It's me they long to jump.

They fill me, up, up, up--

I use them as a pump.

And as I've gone through life,

I've changed an awful lot.

Which shows: to be a wife,

You've got to be real hot.

~~~~~

The newsletter was also filled with a glut of photos. Scarlett, it seemed, was a tanned, sizzling blond with amazing curves and an aversion to clothing. She also wore a variety of outfits, from a gold string bikini to a bright purple one-piece bathing suit with gaping holes strategically included in the design. The most she put on in a single picture was a totally sheer white robe over a halfway-modest two-piece bathing suit.

Scarlett had also found it necessary to contort herself into a variety of positions. Most of them accentuated various parts of her anatomy, allowing for the most detailed viewing possible. Many of these positions also looked painful, but she seemed to bear them with good grace.

Occasionally Scarlett wrapped herself around various studs of men, who never wore more than low-rise jeans, if even that. Her overabundance of male friends seemed to be truly enjoying themselves--their smiles were almost as big as her blinding, ear-to-ear grin that showed off every one of her sparkling white teeth.

Some of the photos moved, allowing for a tad more unpredictable viewing. But other of the pictures were obviously Muggle because, as Scarlett explained, there were only a handful of British Wizarding porn magazines--not nearly enough for her to make a full living.

Like it mattered whether the pictures moved or not. About every single boy in the school from first year on

up had a copy, and was eagerly poring over it at the breakfast table, ignoring the massive cloud of delivery owls that flurried around itself as it left the Great Hall, hooting and flapping.

~~~~~

At the Slytherin table the sixth year boys were pretty much ignoring their breakfast. Draco dropped his chocolate donut on his plate and was instead fondling his copy of Scarlett's newsletter with a tender gaze, while Vincent and Gregory were literally drooling from the mouth. Theodore took bare moments to glance away from his copy and look at Blaise, who was glued to The Scarlett Letter by the nose.

"I thought you weren't buying the newsletter," Theodore remarked after a moment, staring pointedly at Blaise.

Blaise didn't look up from his copy, but replied vaguely, "Well, I didn't think Malfoy would buy one, either, and look how wrong I turned out to be."

"You said it bothered you," Theodore pressed, his gaze darting back and forth between Blaise and Scarlett.

"Of course it does," Blaise mumbled, barely paying attention to his friend.

"Then why--?"

"God, Theo, don't you ever shut up??" Blaise burst out, still not looking out from behind his newsletter. "I'm trying to read!"

Theodore shrugged his shoulders and returned to his own copy of The Scarlett Letter. In the background he could already hear the boys in the other houses jabbering about Scarlett's multitude of photos. The Slytherin boys, however, were still quietly reading, each one determining how exactly they'd hook this scarlet woman. Talking would come later. But for now, a bit of examination was in order.

"Draco, dearest, you aren't reading that awful Scarlett Letter thing, are you?" Pansy crooned in disappointment, thrusting herself up against her unresponsive boyfriend. "Draco?" She gave him a gentle push using her entire body, then threaded her fingers through his pale gold locks.

Malfoy grunted and nudged her back, as if trying to get her out of his hair. She, however, interpreted this gesture in the exact opposite direction and only molded herself even more closely to him. "Please, darling, stop reading that," she whined softly. "Don't you want to look at me instead?"

"Not really. Why?" Draco replied as he ogled an image of Scarlett wrapped inadequately in a thin sheet and around a nearly-naked man. This certain photo was a moving one, which mostly included Scarlett rocking back and forth against her stud, smiling demurely at the camera. Her fifteen-minute-mate simply looked dazed by the good fortune of his position.

"What if I was dressed like that?" Pansy continued, pointing at the aforementioned picture.

"Hm?" Draco grunted.

"And what if you were dressed like that?" she pointed at the man clad in bikini briefs. "And what if we were moving like that?" she continued desperately, indicating Scarlett's rhythms. "Would you pay attention to me then?" If anything, Pansy seemed close to tears.

Draco snapped his newsletter shut (though he made sure to mark his place with his thumb) and turned an annoyed face towards his girlfriend. "Look, I'm trying to read! Can't you leave me alone?"

"But--but don't you want to talk--"

"No idea why I'd particularly want to," Draco snapped, shooting to his feet. "See you in Transfiguration." And he marched away, glancing inexplicably over at the Gryffindor table before turning back to his newsletter and marching out of the Great Hall.

Pansy watched him go, rubbing furiously at her eyes. "What a horrible--I don't see why--how--?"

Gregory looked up from his newsletter. "Why don't you just break up with him?" he suggested mildly. "He treats you like shit."

"He's a GREAT boyfriend!" Pansy lashed out at him. "I wouldn't want any other!"

Gregory shook his head and muttered, "I certainly would, if I was you."

"Well, you're not me, thank goodness!" Pansy snapped back, whipping out a lacy handkerchief and dabbing furiously at her tearing eyes. "Draco's the perfect boy for me!"

Knowing that she was trying to convince herself more than anyone else, Gregory let the matter drop and instead turned his mind towards more important things. Like his new newsletter and correspondent.

With what I gathered from the letter she sent, Scarlett must really love me! Gregory thought, his stomach lurching at the thought. How exciting! I've never had a girlfriend before--and there's no time to start like the present. Gosh, she looks so amazing that it makes me wonder how I came to deserve a chance like this! No use asking questions--I'd better take advantage of that chance and write her back immediately!

And so he drafted the letter on a piece of new parchment, right there in the Great Hall.

Dearest Scarlett,

I do believe I have seen true perfection for the first time in my life. This landmark event happened as I viewed The Scarlett Letter. In it, I saw perfection--and that perfection was you. You have given my day the ideal start. And I'll consider this ideal start a positive omen. Seeing a woman in a red bikini can't be anything but good, after all!

Love,

Your Devoted Gregory.

~~~~~

Ginny, Hermione, and Luna were all leaning over Parvati and Lavender's shoulders. They critiqued The Scarlett Letter in lofty voices and paid hardly any attention to the yammering boys around them.

"Provocative, this girl is," Parvati said dryly, eyeing a picture of Scarlett sharing a large Jacuzzi with three young men. Bubbles obscured all inappropriate body parts, but goofy smiles plastered themselves across the faces of the three men, leaving no one in doubt that they had just had a very good time with their scarlet nymphomaniac.

"She's been provocative ever since she was in fifth grade," Hermione supplied brightly. "I can't say this is the career path I would have chosen for her, but she does seem to be enjoying herself."

Parvati flipped to the next photo to reveal a two-page spread of Scarlett in a red string bikini. Luna gasped and thrust her finger into the picture. "See? She's a veilabat, I told you! They're really bad omens, you know. If you see one, it means that someone you love is going to betray you in eleven days. . . or was it sixteen? I can hardly remember."

"Sounds a bit too much like Divination," Ginny said absently. "Oh, well. Eleven or sixteen, it hardly matters. I don't think we need to worry about veilabats just now."

Ron sidled around to his sister's shoulder and peered down through the small thicket of girls and at the magazine. "What are you guys looking at?" he asked.

"Nothing, Ron," Ginny said firmly. "You shouldn't be seeing this, you're not mature enough."

"It's that Scarlett Letter thing, isn't it?" Ron said accusingly. "You're one to talk Ginny--you're even younger than I am! So that means you're not allowed to look at it."

"Oh, yeah?" Ginny snarled, whirling away from the magazine and extending her body to its full five feet. "I'd like to see you stop me!"

Ron shrugged. "I wouldn't dream of doing it," he replied. "I'd just write to Mum and tell her that you're looking at inappropriate magazines. She'd stop you for me. So unless you're going to let me look over your shoulder, I suggest you keep away from such trash."

"What about Hermione?" Ginny shot back.

"She's not my sister," Ron replied, attempting to keep his voice even, "so I can't force her to do anything she doesn't want to do. Of course," he added to Hermione, his voice suddenly stern, "I don't want my girlfriend looking at The Scarlett Letter, either."

"So you think you can boss me around just because I'm your little sister!" Ginny retorted angrily. Her voice was loud enough to mask the commotion that Pansy was making over at the Slytherin table. "Well, my dear brother, you must have run across a particularly vicious Brain-Removal Hex when you were younger, because--"

"Look!" Lavender cried suddenly, pointing over towards the Slytherin table. The five girls and Ron (and Harry, who happened to be nearby) all stared at Draco Malfoy as he shot up from the Slytherin table, clearly annoyed, and marched towards the door to the Entrance Hall.

"He's looking at us!" Lavender whispered suddenly. "See--? Wait, he's turned away now. He's reading his magazine again."

"Thank goodness," Parvati said, shuddering. "It creeps me out, how he keeps staring over here. Maybe Scarlett will be a blessing; maybe Malfoy will start paying attention to her and stop ogling us."

Luna gazed over at the Slytherin table with her wide blue eyes. "Oh look, Parkinson seems to be crying. Draco must have hurt her feelings."

Parvati and Lavender dropped their newsletter and stood up quickly, their gazes homing in on Draco's girlfriend. They were obviously dying to know more about this turn of circumstance.

"I'd better go comfort her," Luna volunteered compassionately. "Draco can be meaner than the Squizzle-gnat at times." She made to leave, but Lavender held her back.

"No, Luna," she said quickly. "Wait a while. Then we'll talk to Daphne."

"Daphne Greengrass?" Hermione asked from her seat at the table, shooting Lavender a strange look. "What for?"

"She's Parkinson's best friend," Lavender explained. "Parkinson will tell her all about it, and Daphne can pass it on to us. Honestly, Hermione--you're book-smart, but you have no idea how the gossip chain operates."

**********

First block Transfigurations for the sixth years happened to be a pretty boring lesson. Professor McGonagall was starting her second day of rote lecturing on human Transfiguration; most of the class seemed to think one period of note-taking was enough on that subject. Some of the more earnest students, including Hermione, Ernie, and Terry Boot, were busy taking thorough notes. The rest jotted down a line or two on their parchment, bemoaned the lack of practical magic, and fell into a gentle slumber.

Draco had set aside his notes and pulled out a clean sheet of parchment. Thinking for a moment, he set the nib of his quill at the top of the sheet and began writing.

"Who are you sending that letter to?" Pansy hissed in his ear. She sat on his right, while Gregory and Vincent took his left.

"None of your business," Draco hissed back in perfect rhythm to McGonagall's lecture.

"You're writing to Scarlett, aren't you?" Pansy accused, pouting.

"Actually, I'm not," Draco replied pointedly. "And, though I don't see how it's any of your business, I'm writing to my dear father." He spat out the last adjective as if it tasted bitter on his tongue. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't read over my shoulder."

Pansy fumed and leaned away from Draco. She whipped out her notes and began furiously scribbling down McGonagall's discourse on human Transfiguration.

Meanwhile, Draco continued his letter, shielding the parchment with his arm and pausing every now and then to make sure no one was looking in his direction.

Father,

I need my hand of glory. Send it to me by the next post. Hope everything's doing well at home. How are the Death Eater meetings? You better not have let any of them use my room while I was away.

Draco

**********

Unsurprisingly, Scarlett received another deluge of mail that afternoon:

Dear Scarlett,

As I write this in Transfiguration, I can't help thinking how boring this lecture on Human Transfiguration is. Now, if you were teaching (or if McGonagall shared any hint of your curves) this class would be interesting. Such is not the case.

I would love to go meet up with you sometime. The next Hogsmeade weekend isn't for a while, but we can wait. Or maybe I can sneak out of school. After this morning's drool-inducing newsletter, I'd love to meet you in person.

Love,

Zacharias

~~~~~

Hi, Hot Stuff,

Um, so I thought there was nothing better to do during this Transfiguration lesson, so I thought I'd write to you. . . Yeah, loved your newsletter this morning. Hot ass--very spankable. Any chance I can meet it in person?

Terry

~~~~~

Lovely Scarlett,

Potions is absolutely infernal. Could you possibly sneak Snape some Polyjuice potion with your hairs into his breakfast? Maybe then this lesson would be interesting. Because it certainly isn't now. I tell you, that man can't teach worth crap. Loved today's newsletter, by the way. When's the next one coming out?

Most affectionately,

Dennis

~~~~~

Dear Scarlett,

I have a poem for you. It goes like this:

I love Scarlett.

She isn't a harlot.

Kisses and hugs I want to give to her,

And I'd also like to hear her purr.

She also is very, very, very hot

Yes, when she touches me, I say "Ah, that hits the spot."

If you ever want to have a good time,

Go to Scarlett--she doesn't cost a dime!

Okay, so it isn't the best I've written. But it's better than my friend Gregory would write. He probably writes absolutely awful poetry. Wait, DO you cost a dime? Or what? Maybe you can clarify that for me.

Many kisses and gobs of love,

Vincent

~~~~~

My dear Scarlett,

Writing to you once in one day simply isn't enough. So I had to write again. My friends Draco and Vincent are probably writing you insincere love letters to you at this very moment. They're very malicious like that. You'll want to stay away from them and pay attention to me. Draco can be very mean to me sometimes. He says I'm an idiot who can't spel. Anyway, enough about that. I have a poem for you:

Scarlett is lovely, a nice crimson hue.

I'll bet if you saw her, you'd like her too.

She really knows how to make me feel fine

Her name is roses, her pictures are wine.

They, all in all, are deliciously sweet

Most edible, from her head to her feet.

You can get lost; keep your stripper and whore,

While I leave with Scarlett, who's ever much more.

How'd you like it? Please write back--I'd love to hear from you.

Love,

Gregory

~~~~~

Dear Madam:

I didn't subscribe to your newsletter because I currently have a girlfriend and didn't want to upset her. However, my friends were reading one of your poems out loud at the breakfast table--the one called "What It Takes." The rhythm was good, the imagery passable. However, you made a grave error when you ended your poem with "You've got to be real hot." It should have been "You've got to be really hot." Just thought I'd point that out.

Sincerely,

Ernie Macmillan

**********

That afternoon Colin Creevey was teaching his brother Dennis the Summoning Charm. They had put at least a score of shelves between them and Madam Pince, and were now practicing on old books.

"Say the spell clearly, now, Dennis," Colin instructed his brother patiently.

Dennis nodded and waved his wand. "Accio," he said, and the book in Colin's hand jerked unexpectedly, then rocketed across the aisle. Dennis ducked, and the book hit his forehead with a meaty thud.

"Er. . . even more clearly than that," Colin said slowly, taking another heavy book from the shelves. Dennis shook his head dazedly for a moment, then pushed himself up from the floor.

"Accio," Dennis sighed. The book jerked out of his brother's hands, then fell to the floor with a flop, splitting along the spine. "Oh, goshdarn it. Pince is gonna be after our blood now!"

"No, it's okay!" Colin said hurriedly, picking up the torn book. It suddenly bucked in his hands and slapped his across the face. "Damn it! Pince must've put one spells on this one. Reparo!" The cover fell off altogether, and the spine disappeared entirely. The pages flopped in a wave over Colin before floating to the floor in a swirling cloud. "Damn, shit!" Colin hissed as the bespelled pages began furiously beating him around the ankles. "What's wrong with that lady??"

"Perhaps we should be practicing the Reparo spell, Colin," Dennis suggested cheekily. "That's a fourth-year spell."

"You're third year, you haven't even learned it yet," Colin snapped irritably. "And no more studying for today! You can learn the Summoning Charm next year."

"But then what will we do?" Dennis asked, making no move to help his older brother.

"Get out of this library for a start," Colin said, running away from the offending pages. They followed behind him in a flurrying trail, whispering across the wood floor. "Then we can think of something fun."

As they ran towards the exit, they passed Madam Pince, who looked up in shock as one of her books chased after the two Creevey brothers in a thousand pieces. "WHAT HAVE YOU TWO DONE?!" she shrieked at them. "THAT'S MY BOOK!!"

Neither Colin nor Dennis could stop to placate her for fear that the pages would catch up with them. They ran down Hogwarts' stone corridors in breathless gasps as the white parchment chased after them in a bent determination.

Much to their relief, the book's spell seemed to grow weaker as it drew farther away from the library. As the two brothers rushed through Hogwarts, the pages lagged behind, then floated reluctantly to the ground. By the time they reached Gryffindor tower, only one last page still stuck with them, slapping itself half-heartedly against Colin's shin.

"Is that you're idea of fun?" Dennis joked half-heartedly as they flopped into armchairs by the common room fire.

"That's just another curse of schoolwork," Colin growled irritably. "And by no means is it fun."

Dennis sank into his plush chair, staring at the fire. "But what do you want to do? You've done nothing in the past few days but babble about starting a Harry Potter fan club. Oh, and you've also been gaping at The Scarlett Letter."

Colin suddenly perked up. "That's it! A fan club!"

Dennis sighed and shook his head, sinking even deeper into his warm armchair. "No, we've already gone over this. Harry was very severe about us starting a fan club. He says he'll charm a pair of Bludgers to chase after us for the rest of the year if we do."

"Idiot, that's not what I'm talking about," Colin said impatiently. "We can start a Scarlett fan club! Isn't that a great idea?"

Dennis perked up. "I'd choose it over studying any day," he said sincerely.

Somehow, their conversation must have carried, because Seamus vaulted over to them from the other side of the room, dragging Dean behind him. "Am I wrong, or did I hear the words 'Scarlett fan club?' Hey, Kirke, Sloper! C'mere, Colin's got a great idea!"

And so the knot of boys grew into a small, babbling crowd. Hermione got up from her seat on the other side of the fire, shaking her head in annoyance. But, as she took her massive book to read elsewhere, she couldn't help smiling at the boys' idea. Her friend was certainly becoming quite a hit.

**********

More owls arrived at the dinner than ever before. Most of them held letters--notes to the students, more specifically, to the male population of Hogwarts:

Dearest Zacharias,

Mind if I call you Zach? You are such a sweet young man. But I don't think I'd be able to teach Transfiguration. I'd be more inclined to go over such spells as Anatomical Enhancing. It can be very useful at times, but I don't think it's on the school curriculum (it should be!!).

I'd absolutely love to go to Hogsmeade with you. We'll have to figure something out once we get closer to the next Hogsmeade weekend, but it sounds like a great opportunity to meet in person. I love you!!

XOXO,

Scarlett

~~~~~

My own Terry,

Nothing better to do in Transfiguration? So you thought you'd write to me? Shouldn't you do so, even if you have loads to do? *pout* But thanks for the compliments on the pictures. I do believe my nether end is rather spankable.

Scarlett

~~~~~

Dear Vincent,

Thanks for the poem--I find it really sweet. And as for costing a dime. . . just depends. For some oily, greasy, ugly person like Snape, it takes a couple thousand galleons to hook me. But for someone absolutely hot like you, I don't cost a thing! Bring it on!

Kisses,

Scarlett

~~~~~

My darling Gregory,

I was absolutely delighted to receive more than one letter from you today. I need as much of you as I can get! Thanks for the touching compliments you gave me. I don't feel perfect until you say so. And your poem you sent was absolutely heart-touching. I cried when I read it, I was so happy. It is a thousand times better than the poem that your friend Crabbe sent me. He can hardly write at all. And your friend Malfoy isn't much better. I'm just being polite, writing back to them. But don't tell them. . . yet! It'll be our little secret. I'd love to meet you in person--maybe the next Hogsmeade weekend?

With all my love,

Scarlett

~~~~~

Ernie, Ernie, Ernie. . .

My dearest, if I had used "really" instead of "real," it would have totally thrown off the rhythm. My friend Hermione Granger knocked grammar sense into me back when we were in elementary school, and I know exactly what is correct and incorrect grammar. But sometimes you have to sacrifice grammar for art. And such is one of the cases. I do hope you understand.

Cordially,

Scarlett

~~~~~

There was also at least one piece of mail Scarlett did not send:

Draco,

Why would you need your hand of glory at Hogwarts? It's a dark object, and I hesitate to send it in the post. You have absolutely no common sense.

Sincerely,

Your Father

P.S. No, I have not let a single Death Eater in your room--how many times will I have to tell you?

**********

Hogwarts students weren't the only ones getting a lot of dinner post today. A few of the posts received by Ministry official, amongst the hundreds:

Hey Fudge,

Okay, so I heard Scarlett has been having some trouble in starting the British Wizarding porn business. What the hell are you guys thinking? You could make potfuls out of it.

Terry

~~~~~

Hi, Daddy,

I heard that Scarlett was getting trouble from some of the Death Eaters over starting the Wizarding porn business. Please don't give her any more trouble! Films may be Muggle-made, but Scarlett's amazing! Please, please, please let her start that business! I want to see her in the movies.

Love,

Vincent

~~~~~

To Lucius Malfoy, delivered by a Hogwarts barn owl:

Dear Sir:

My name is Euan Abercrombie, and I am a second year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I subscribe to a newsletter called The Scarlett Letter. In it, Scarlett talks about the troubles that the Ministry have been giving her, particularly the ministry people of magical descent. She says that these men are trying to keep her from starting a British Wizarding porn industry. Please reconsider this awfulness. You and the Ministry could do great if you make a deal with Scarlett. I politely ask you to think this over, and I thank you for your time.

Sincerely,

Euan Abercrombie

**********

Delivered the next morning at breakfast:

To Masters Colin and Dennis Creevey:

Ancient Theory of Latin Grammar and Spellwork costs 50 galleons, 13 sickles, and 7 knuts to replaces. I expect you to send me the money as soon as possible, and I hereby ban you from the library for the next two weeks. I hope this teaches you how to better respect my books.

Sincerely,

Madam Pince, Hogwarts Librarian

**********

Colin dreamt up his idea for a Scarlett fan club on Tuesday. By Wednesday morning, right about the time he and Dennis received their most unfortunate letter from Madam Pince, all the boys were talking about it, from first to seventh year, from Gryffindor to Slytherin. And so Colin, Dean, and Seamus set the first meeting for 7:00 P.M., Wednesday evening, in the Gryffindor common room.

Needless to say, everyone knew about said meeting before lunch. So, that evening, Euan Abercrombie and Jimmy Cootes were assigned as doormen (or, more accurately, portrait-hole-men), and they held open the Fat Lady's portrait at let in any and ever Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw who came (heaven forbid that they would have to know the password to participate!). A handful of first-year Slytherins also squeezed in at the last minute, and no one had the heart to send those young kids away. So they didn't, and the meeting began.

Colin stood up and surveyed the gaggle of boys that encircled him. Never had the Gryffindor common room been so crowded. Granted, most of the girls had left to find peace elsewhere, but the entire male population of two additional houses more than made up for that. Incidentally, a few girls had decided to join, and they hadn't been refused a place in the fan club. Lavender and Parvati, even, had taken a place in an armchair in the corner and had pulled a large spiral-bound journal to take notes on the entire thing.

"Ahem," Colin began nervously. "We've met here today to begin a noble club--a fan club, that is, for the beautiful Scarlett. I came up with the idea not only because I love her, but because just about everyone one of you loves her as well. And so. . . well, there you go." He sat down quickly after this lame introduction. Lavender and Parvati giggled quietly in their corner.

Terry Boot stood up from a bright red sofa and made his way to the center of the room. "I believe we should choose a leader for this fan club. Colin, of course, is my first choice, because he had this whole idea."

They took a vote, and Colin won a majority. He blushed a brilliant red as he stood up, smiling from ear to ear. "Thanks, guys," he said. "And I'd also like to choose a few assistant leaders to help me run things--I doubt I could do it all by myself!"

In the end (five minutes later, in other words), they chose Seamus, Dean, and Terry as Colin's assistant leaders. So the four boys stood in the center of the Gryffindor common room, grinning. And then there was silence. . .

Colin's grin slowly slid off his face as he gazed from boy to boy. The Slytherin first-years shifted uncomfortably in their seats. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws shot each other nervous glances. The Gryffindors sat in mild embarrassment as Colin, Seamus, and Dean stood in the middle of the room doing nothing. Everyone waited, and still no one said a word, until. . .

"Now what?" This was from Justin Finch-Fletchley.

"Uh. . ." Terry Boot fudged for a moment. "Uh. . . we, um, talk about her, I guess."

"Or," Seamus said suddenly, gifted with an instant inspiration, "we can write poems about her, or make stories and artwork devoted to her. Then we can go over it and admire everything Scarlett."

Needless to say, the first meeting of the Scarlett fan club lasted two hours past curfew. In that time Colin and Dennis wrote an X-rated story about them and Scarlett while Seamus and Dean designed a whopping great poster for their club, which included a most suggestive illustration of Scarlett surrounded by various Hogwarts boys. Three Hufflepuffs and two Ravenclaws busied themselves with a photo montage, while two Gryffindor girls and three more Ravenclaw boys squeezed together on one sofa to write some horrendously unreadable poetry. The rest of the fans gabbled excitedly about the newsletter. In the end, they all reviewed the various works of Scarlett art.

Then Colin took the center of the room during a particularly noisy moment of the festivities. "Hey, you all!" he yelled out. And after a minute or so, once he got their attention, he continued. "It's late, and we don't want McGonagall catching us. We'll meet back here sometime soon, at the same time as tonight. We'll make sure to let you all know about it; news travels fast around Hogwarts, anyway."

"And be careful going back to your common rooms," Terry warned them. "We don't want to run into Filch or anyone equally unpleasant."

And so the Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Slytherins left the Gryffindor common room and slipped off into the dark halls of Hogwarts, still chattering at an unwisely high volume. Even so, everyone made it back to their common rooms without getting caught, except for the Slytherin first years, who about wet their pants when Filch jumped out at them in the dark and gave them each a detention.

**********

That night, Scarlett received two more letters, each in black ink on unassuming parchment:

Dear Scarlett,

Enclosed is 29 galleons and 16 sickles. Please send your newsletter by the night post, so that I may receive it without the knowledge of anyone else. I would really appreciate it.

Sincerely,

Verity Vector

~~~~~

Dear Scarlett,

I wasn't going to get a newsletter at first, but my curiosity is too strong. I have scrounged around for 29 galleons and 16 sickles, and have enclosed it accordingly. Thank you, and I hope to enjoy The Scarlett Letter!

Ronald Weasley

A/N: That's all for now! Next chapter: Enter Pansy into the mix. And Ron, too. Goyle writes to Scarlett. Oh, and Vector has a little secret! Among other things. Please review!