Number 136: I am not allowed to start a Hogwarts Fight Club

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Dennis Creevy's eyes were huge in his startlingly pale face. "You mean Brad Pitt is a wizard?" he breathed out in shock.

Harry nodded solemnly. "Yep. Edward Norton, too."

Lavender slouched further into her chair in the common room; arms crossed over her chest and a pout firmly planted on her face. "Why couldn't I have gone to school in America?"

Hermione snorted, giving Harry a challenging look over her book. "And just how do you know they're wizards, Harry?"

He shrugged negligently. "Overheard a couple Death Eaters talking about how they should recruit them when I was captured once." He smirked, widening his eyes for dramatic effect. "Seems enrollment and initiation was at an all time low." Harry scratched his head thoughtfully. "Course that could have been because Fudge was still denying his return. But still." He shrugged it off. "They figured initiating ones so clever and pretty would raise interest in their cause."

"Pretty?" Ron asked sharply. His face twisted; voice coming out with false casualness. "You think blokes are pretty, Harry?"

Parvati, Hermione, Lavender, and Dennis gave Ron incredulous looks. "It's universally accepted that those two are hot," Parvati said simply.

Harry waved it off. "So, what do you think of my suggestion?"

Lavender wrinkled her nose. "Would we have to mess around with Lye? Because, honestly, as sexy as they were in pain… Well, I am not ready to mar my flesh like that."

He considered this. "Ok, no disfiguration." Lavender and Parvati looked imminently cheered. "But," he added sternly, "the rules still apply."

"Rules?" Ron questioned. "There are rules in this group?"

Hermione sniffed disdainfully at Ron, having still not quite forgiven him for his egregious distribution of points. "Of course there are rules, Ron. A successful grouping of individuals will fall apart without a basic code of honor to follow."

"Oh." Ron scratched his head. "Right."

Harry stood up. "In Fight Club, there are only eight simple rules to follow. Eight. Violation of these rules is not encouraged."

Ron nodded. "Only eight rules, I can do that."

Hermione got out a clean sheet of parchment and a quill, looking at Harry expectantly. "The First Rule of Fight Club – you do not talk about Fight Club." He nodded his head towards his two favorite partners in crime.

Seamus stood up; legs spread shoulder width apart and arms crossed angrily over his chest. "Second rule of Fight Club – You DO NOT talk about Fight Club."

Dean glowered at the room. "Third rule – If someone says 'stop,' goes limp, of taps out; the fight is over."

Dennis, surprisingly, stood up. "Fourth rule – Only two guys to a fight." He gave Harry an adoring look. "I saw the movie," he told Neville; seeing his look of shock.

Harry grinned. "Fifth rule – One fight at a time."

"Sixth rule – No shirts, no shoes."

"Seventh rule – Fights will go on as long as they have to."

"And the eighth and last rule of Fight Club," Harry eyed his cohorts seriously. "If this is your first night at Fight Club, you HAVE to fight." He looked around the room. "Any questions?"

Hermione raised her hand primly. "Are only Gryffindors going to be in Fight Club or are we going to invite other houses?"

Harry nodded at her. "Good question. Right now there are those in this room, Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff, and Draco Malfoy. We'll start recruiting for more soon."

"Draco's in Fight Club?" Parvati breathed. Harry nodded. She grinned. "That is so hot."

Hermione looked vaguely insulted. "Hannah was initiated into Fight Club before I was?"

"Yep," Seamus agreed dreamily. "The girl is bloodthirsty and enthusiastic." Dean smacked him upside the back of his head.

"Seamus invited her." Harry hugged her consolingly. "I wanted to invite you after you slapped Draco in third year."

"Really?" Hermione sniffed.

"Absolutely." Harry reassured. "It was impressive."

"Malfoy?" Ron yelled. "How could Malfoy be in Fight Club?"

Harry shrugged. "Who do you think helped me start it? People in this school have known about Fight Club for years." He paused, considering. "Mostly Slytherins." Dean and Seamus snickered. Hermione narrowed her eyes speculatively.

"That makes sense," Lavender agreed. 'They do like to fight more than any other house."

"Draco is the Brad Pitt to your Edward Norton?" Dennis looked ready to cry from the romance of it all. "But," he frowned; confused. "But you guys wear both shirts and shoes when you fight?"

"Only in the hallways," Harry answered quickly. "I promise you, when we… fight alone, we definitely don't wear shirts or shoes. We had to remain true to the first rule of Fight Club at all costs." Dennis nodded, relieved. Seamus was suddenly overcome with a bout of coughing. Dean started whistling the tune to the YMCA. Harry kicked him.

"Not with your shoes on, Harry," Hermione reminded him disapprovingly, tapping her quill against the neatly written rule number six.

Monday morning found a very motley crew of students heading down to the Great Hall. Hannah Abbott beamed at the Gryffindors; her split lip cracking open and a small sliver of blood trailing down her chin. Seamus sat by her side; seemingly unconcerned about the barely healed laceration on his head. Terry Boot from Ravenclaw nodded at them; arm wrapped securely in a sling. Luna Lovegood licked her spoon from where she sat beside him; patting his arm in apology and gazing at the ceiling; completely oblivious to the cut on her forehead. Hermione was very smug as she plopped into her seat at breakfast and began filling her plate.

Ginny looked at Neville's swollen face, Dennis' light limp as he entered, Hermione's happy face, and the two obviously empty seats beside her. "Where's Harry and Ron?" she asked hesitantly.

"Ron's in the Hospital Wing," Parvati answered crisply.

"The Hospital Wing?" Ginny looked alarmed. "What happened?"

Parvati smiled innocently, rubbing her elbow absently. "He went limp and passed out."

"And Harry?" Ginny looked like she didn't really want to know.

Right then Harry and Draco appeared. Both were flushed, mouths swollen, a couple bruises blooming beautifully on their arms, and looked utterly disheveled. Ginny's eyes went wide as saucers. "Do you think they were…?"

Lavender reached over, fisted Ginny's hair in her hands, and yanked her head back. "Don't finish that thought," she whispered fiercely. Ginny froze, looking terrified. "They were studying," she continued flatly.

Parvati looked over Lavender's shoulder to where McGonagall was approaching the Gryffindor table. "Stick to the code," she murmured; immediately taking a bite of porridge. Lavender released Ginny and poured a cup of tea.

McGonagall eyed the kids warily. "What on earth is going on here?"

"Nothing ma'am," Hermione sweetly replied. "We're just having breakfast."

Beady eyes lingered on the assorted injuries, the falsely innocent expressions, Ginny's white face, and Harry's dazed look as he slid into his place at the table. "Very well then," she said sternly, "carry on."

Harry winked at her. McGonagall nodded back once before turning on her heal and heading back towards the High Table and a suspicious looking old man. Neville's chin dropped. "You mean, McGonagall…"

Dennis kicked him under the table; nodding significantly at Ginny. "First rule, Nev. First rule." Neville shut his mouth and resumed eating breakfast.

Ginny looked like she was ready to cry. "Harry, where were you this morning?" she whispered.

"Recruiting, Gin. I was recruiting." He wrapped an arm around the trembling girls' shoulder and smiled kindly. "Hey, you have any plane for tonight…?"