Just a heads up:

SPOILERS FOR THE BOOK AND MOVIE FIGHT CLUB. Which was written by Chuck Palahniuk.

So, if you leave a scathing review of how I ruined the book or the movie for you, everyone will know you just didn't read this part.

Anyways, there's a chance that I mixed up some facts, put some people somewhere where they're not supposed to be, but life will go on. I promise. Hope you enjoy!

"Neville, I'm serious, punch me in the face." Neville blanched, unsure what to do. This was his friend, this was someone he had grown up with, more importantly this was a girl with enough brothers to beat the tar out of him before he could say a word.

"Why?!" Neville finally asked, looking around the room of requirement in an almost panic.
"I don't know if you've noticed, but things here in Hogwarts are less than peachy, and I already heard a pack of Slytherins hiss a few words which I'd rather not repeat in my direction, much of which included 'beating my tiny, freckled ass.' I would rather you hit me than them." Ginny Weasley crossed her thin arms and stared at him with a look of determination to make him behave that gave him chills at the memory of his gran.

"What good will my hitting you do? You'll still be all beat up!" Neville pointed out, his frustration growing.

"No matter what I'm going to get my tiny, freckled ass kicked and I would rather it be done by you then one of those Death-losers!"

"Death-losers?"

"Don't judge me, I'm stressed!"

Neville looked to the left, then the right, and back to the left just in case he had missed the answer over there the first time.

"Don't just hit me in the face, you've got to beat me up!" Ginny pleaded, her eyes big. "Neville, if you don't do it, someone else will, and then there's a very good chance that person will make it their personal mission to leave me half dead, if not more dead. I don't need to make sense right now, I'm a wee bit stressed out, and you need to hurry up and punch some sense into me!"

Neville balled up his fists in frustration, earning a look of hope from Ginny.

"I--I can't hit you, I don't know if I could hit anyone, especially you."

"Then don't think of me as me! Pretend I'm someone else, pretend I'm someone you actually want to hit! Pretend I'm a smaller, red hair-der Snape!"

"Gin--"

"Oh, come on, Longbottom," Ginny adjusted her voice to a low sneer, "Perhaps this is one thing you might be able to do right," she opened her mouth to continue the taunt but was greeted by a fist catching the left side of her jaw, making her stumble for a few steps.

"Oh, is that all you got?" Ginny continued, not changing her tone.

And with that, Ginny felt the sharp and direct blows of the knuckles of his chubby fist colliding with her jaw, then nose, finally knocking her down and her ribs felt the toe of his worn shoes hit with surprising force.

"Oh, gods, oh gods! Ginny, I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me! You--you just sounded so much like him and then you kept going and I don't know, I just couldn't stop! Are you okay?"

"I'm pretty sure you broke my nose! Neville, I could have black eyes for weeks! This is perfect!"

"I know, I feel terrib--wait, what?"

"You know I can't go to the hospital wing anymore, and now I'll be all bruised and banged up so no one will need to hit me!"

"Won't they get suspicious when no one in Slytherin hit you?"

"Oh, come on, everyone knows Slytherins never admit to not doing something they want to do, whether they did it or not."
"Oh, sweet Merlin, I knocked the sense out of you," Neville muttered, running his hands through his hair.

Ignoring Neville, Ginny happily went on, "And don't you feel better?"

Neville just blinked at her, unsure what she meant.
"Me? I just punched a girl, several times, who is my friend and half my size. How could I possibly feel better?"

But he did feel better, oddly enough. He felt quite a bit of aggression out, losing a bit of control.

"You're still bleeding." Neville muttered, feeling a mix of guilt and a bit of relief that just added to the guilt.

"Brilliant," Ginny breathed out, her eyes bright with a surprising amount of glee.

Back in the common room there was a rush of hushed voices as the two snuck back in.

"Ginny," one of the younger students breathed out, "what happened?"

With a gleeful check around the room, Ginny whispered back, "Neville hit me! It was perfect!"

All eyes slid over to the room, giving Neville a look that mixed with shock, horror, and confusion. Whispering had never been a sure fire way to keep secrets a secret, and with everyone's senses heightened with the tension of conditions in the school, they heard a pin drop across the castle.

"Why?"

One voice rang clear across the room, and didn't matter who had said it because they said exactly what everyone wanted to say.

"It proves my theory! I am not actually made of glass or ceramic or any other ridiculously breakable material. I can take a punch, I can handle pain, and I can keep on going. And now Neville feels better, knows he can throw a punch. This is all really genius, wish I had come up with it myself. Last summer, my dad made one of those moving picture boxes work--"

"A tv?" someone called out.

"Yeah! And it showed us this long story, couple hours of moving pictures--"

"A movie?"

"Yeah! And it was this story about this group, or club, who would all fight,"

"Fight Club!"

"Right! And it was a book, too, a muggle book, I made Hermione get it for me, she was thrilled of course, and now I know what we all need to do! We need our own Fight Club!" Ginny was so excited she hadn't noticed her nose had started bleeding again.

"What happens in this Fight Club you want to recreate?" Neville asked nervously.

"Well, it turns out one of the main characters is a figment of the other main characters imagination and several buildings are blown up, and a guy with tits dies…"

Ginny stopped explaining and looked at the curious faces who were watching her very intently. The only sound was one first year coughing, as she often did when she was nervous.

"Oh, c'mon, everyone here is real, we all know that. I didn't make anyone of you up! Besides, we all know, no one cares anymore what happens to us. The teachers can't stop the Slytherins from doing anything, they're going to hurt us any way they can. But if we beat each other up first, we'll be okay! It's sure to delay them at least a bit, and it won't be nearly as scary when they do! We'll all be so used to getting punched it won't really be a big deal at all."

"What if they use magic on us?" a third year called out.

"Then we'll know how to hit them back. None of them will want to admit that getting punched hurt them more than their magic hurt us. Think about this, everyone, we could have the upper hand! All it will take is a few bruises, a black eye or two, maybe a concussion." Ginny continued in an excited voice.

The weary looking house looked at Neville, he had been looked up to now as one of the few remaining seventh years, and he had already taken part in helping Ginny with her wild plan, even if it was completely out of character for him.

The group decided to just see what happened the next day. Some had tried to argue that they should just use illusionary spells to make it look like they were as beat up as Ginny, but then they were reminded how easily spells like that were broken. One tried to argue they should just use a potion for the results, but then he was reminded that if that potion isn't done exactly right, the bruises turn into boils which leave the worst scars and pains possible.

Besides that, even if it was their friends they'd be punching, many of them were quite excited to take out aggression on someone. Neville eventually admitted, begrudgingly, that he felt better after beating up poor Ginny than he had in months.

What really started convincing people that Ginny's bizarre plan might actually work came the next morning at breakfast.

Walking in, her stride proud and her head held high, Ginny was instantly greeted by the self proclaimed princess of Slytherin, Pansy Parkinson, who looked at her with unadulterated shock and surprise.

"Merlin's beard, Weasley! Who finally gave you what you deserve?" she asked, her voice shrill with surprise and glee.

"Don't act like you don't know, Parkinson!" Ginny spat back, her voice brimming with acid as she let her eyes slide over the Slytherin table with such malice that it gave more than one of them chills at the idea that a Gryffindor could be so full of loathing.

It didn't take long before all of the Gryffindors were giving the same look to the opposing table. The Slytherins puffed up with fake pride, telling others to watch out "Or I'll give you the Weasley special!" while behind their backs the Gryffindors cracked up at their ignorance.

The teachers of course noticed, and more than one longed to ask Ginny what had happened, but knew full well that they could not for the safety of the student.

When Neville climbed through the portrait hole after dinner that evening, he was surprised to see that all of his classmates were paired up, trying to inflict as much pain and damage to their partners as possible.

"Ginny! What'd you do?!" he hollered, the redheads hair making her location clear across the room. She bounded over to him, a wide, bloody grin on her face.

"Oh, isn't this perfect! Before you came, a few people were a bit timid, but in no time at all, it turned into this!" she waved her arm around the room to show what she meant. Everyone who had made it this far in the year was there, and they all looked rabid.

"What finally convinced them?" Neville asked, bewildered.

"They saw the special treatment I got. Teachers felt bad for me, even Filch didn't have anything to say when I was walking around today."

"But you're allowed to walk the corridors during the day."

"Try telling that to Filch."

As the weeks turned into months, the students of the Gryffindor house continued their fighting. For most, it happened at least twice a week, more for Ginny, who never let her right eye stop being bruised. The fighting also proved to be a great equalizer, no one cared who they fought or who fought them. Early on, seventh years would try to be nicer to first years, but quickly learned that was not in their best interest as the first years took it upon themselves to use this to their advantage. Biting became a mainstay in their fights.

They all decided that it would be best not to let any teacher know what was really going on, or any parent. No one told McGonagall why her house was constantly bruised and having to wrap sprains in their common room, not that she didn't ask.

"Weasley! I demand to know who continues to give you that black eye!" she would shout, her frustration growing.

"I'm sorry, professor," Ginny would tell her shoes, "I just can't do that."

This resulted in McGonagall strongly suggesting that Ginny not return from the Easter holidays, much to Ginny and her fellow remaining students dismay. But the after effects of learning this wandless fighting was very apparent, they had less fear as they walked down the halls, and didn't mind the Slytherins nearly as much knowing that in reality they were quite powerless compared to their fellow students. The real impact showed when the final battle came about.

There was chaos everywhere, and Charlie Weasley stayed close to his brother Bill, already scarred from previous battles and sure to receive a few more in this one.

Bill's eyes suddenly went wide as he watched something behind Charlie, making Charlie whirl around as fast he could, wand up, but soon his gaze matched his brothers.

"Is that…?" Charlie's voice trailed off.

"She just sprung on him, like she was jumping off a spring board." Bill answered, still watching.

There, on top of Lucius Malfoy, was their darling little sister, her left hand gripping his robes, holding his head off the cold stone floor as her right hand repeatedly punched him in the face so hard blood was dripping from the corners of his mouth. Her eyes were wild, but her voice was sure as she shouted in his face.

"BET YOU REGERET GIVING ME THAT DIARY NOW, YOU ALBINO SON-OF-A-BITCH!"

"Ginny! Get back to safety!" Mr. Weasley yelled from behind the brothers, looking as perturbed as the other two.

"Don't think Ginny's the one in trouble right now." Charlie mumbled, Bill muttered in agreement.

Ginny stood up dutifully, but made sure to give the frightened Death Eater a sharp kick in the ribs and shoved his wife, who had just now come to his aid, into a wall as hard as she could, before going.

"What in the name of Merlin is going on here? Look at all the Gryffindors!" Mr. Weasley shouted over the noise to his two oldest, and as they scanned the room, wands up and ready, they saw what he meant.

On their left, a confused looking Dean Thomas held back the arms of one Death Eater as his best friend Seamus Finnegan punched the masked man in the stomach as if he was having a go at a punching bag.

A little ways further, Padma Patil was on the floor, recovering from a nasty hex she had just been hit with, watching with a mix of awe and horror as her twin sister, Parvarti, had the older man Death Eater who had hit her from behind in what looked to be a very painful headlock, and seemed determined to rip his ear off using only her teeth.

To their right Lavender Brown was pulling a female Death Eaters hair so hard it was coming out in clumps as the witch screamed, trying to grab her wand.

Behind her, Neville Longbottom looked the most frightening of all, after their own sister. He had a younger Death Eater, an older boy who had made sure to inflict as much pain on Neville as he could while a student in Slytherin, on the floor crying as Neville beat him mercilessly with what appeared to be the boys own shoe.

"Do you think we should help any of them?" Charlie asked his brother, not really sure what to do.

"I think we should ask them to watch our backs." Bill answered. Charlie nodded, and the two went to help their father, who had managed to find a pack of Death Eaters who all were more than willing to fight him rather than the students with the crazy eyes.

Once the battle was over, and life returned to what seemed to be normal, Bill and Charlie were still not sure what to make of what they had seen. Finally, right after Ginny's graduation, they decided to ask.

"Gin, we have a question," Charlie started, cornering her with Bill.

"If it's about the dress, I promise I'll change as soon as I can!" Ginny snapped, trying to pull the dress up a bit higher as it was showing more cleavage than any of them were used to.

"Er, no, but thank goodness, it's about the final battle…" Bill filled in.

"What about it?" Ginny questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, we couldn't help but you notice you and a few of what we believe were your classmates had a…very interesting way of fighting." Charlie said.

"Don't know what you're talking about." Ginny answered, crossing her arms, accidentally pushing her cleavage up a bit higher.

"Yes you do! You beat up Lucius Malfoy and called him an albino son-of-a-bitch!" Charlie responded.

"Charlie! Language!" their mother called from the other side of the room.

"How does she do that? Do you think she's listening?" Bill wondered out loud.

"No, the woman's just got an uncanny knack for picking up foul language. I'll never forget the time I called Ron a --"

"Gin! Don't change the subject! What in the name of Merlin's pants happened to all of you at that battle!" Charlie cut her off, his curiosity having been waiting for over a year.

"Don't know what you're talking about, I was banished to safety, remember?" Ginny answered.

"Oh, come off it! We saw you! And so did Dad!" Bill harped.

"What are you suggesting, dear brothers? That my fellow Gryffindors trained ourselves to fight in our own little fight club, held secret from all who weren't involved as a way to deal with our anger and rage that had pent up over the school year and used the fighting skills we acquired at the final battle?" Ginny asked coolly, her eye brow rising up again.

"Well no, that's just rather silly." Bill mumbled, looking away, slightly embarrassed at the way the conversation had gone.

"Yeah, Gin, if you don't want to tell us that's fine, but don't make up stories." Charlie added.

"Sorry, guys. Sometimes my imagination just seems to carry me away…"