It was a Sunday morning. Despite a sleepless night, Viktor emerged from the Room of Requirement with a wide smile on his face, a massive speaker floating above his head. He had worked tirelessly on this invention all night. Not being an electrical engineer or an acoustics specialist, Viktor, using a combination of alchemy, magic, and outright plagiarism—taking the idea of a Pensieve as a basis—spent fifteen grueling hours learning to extract musical memories directly from his mind and reproduce them in reality. During this time, the Room of Requirement had exploded several times from his failed experiments, or he himself, in a fit of rage, had pulled out his wand and cast Bombarda repeatedly. But the result was worth it.
Some might have thought he was wasting his time, but Viktor was convinced that training without motivational music wasn't training at all. And since he had countless songs stored in his memory, the upcoming sessions promised to be incredibly fun.
Getting the training room proved to be easier than he expected. After his bold antics at the beginning of the year, the Slytherin pure-blood faction had split into two camps. There were the pure-blood fanatics, whose families were waiting for Voldemort's return and who couldn't stand the idea of a mudblood in their House. And there were the rest, Gemma's faction, who were still proud of their heritage but without the fanaticism, preferring a quiet life. Their meetings in the old hall had therefore ceased. Gemma had given her consent without much argument, and the fanatics, while opposed, couldn't find a brave soul among them who dared to openly challenge Viktor. They were all impatiently waiting for the summer holidays, genuinely believing that while they couldn't handle him, their influential families would surely find a way to get rid of him.
Viktor approached a thick wooden door in the Slytherin common room. The bracelet on his wrist vibrated, and the door clicked open. He had enchanted it the day before, creating special bracelets that were the only way to open it without a powerful spell. He was taking the creation of his fight club very seriously.
Leaving the door ajar, he walked to the center of the room. The massive speaker, which reached his waist, slowly lowered to the floor. Viktor tapped its casing with his wand, and a sort of touchscreen lit up on top. He selected a pre-made playlist, smiled, and pressed play, turning the volume to the maximum.
The powerful bass of "Eye of the Tiger" immediately filled the common room, making objects vibrate slightly and raising dust from the shelves. The Slytherins, who had been eagerly awaiting Viktor's first session, began to trickle towards the source of the sound. The first to brave the open door were Daphne and Hermione, who had been in her room all morning. They were met with a scene where Viktor stood in the middle of the hall with his eyes closed, playing an invisible guitar, completely lost in the music.
— Risin' up, back on the street
— Did my time, took my chances
Viktor began to sing along, his voice, unexpectedly clear and strong, blending with the song's vocals as he mimed a microphone with his invisible hand.
— Went the distance, now I'm back on my feet
— Just a man and his will to survive!
His movements were full of energy, as if he were performing on a massive stage.
Daphne and Hermione stood with their mouths slightly agape in surprise, trying to comprehend what they were seeing. Hermione immediately recognized the song from her dad's favorite movie. Her lips twitched slightly. The other Slytherins, gradually filling the common room, froze at the entrance. They began to exchange looks with an expression of "What on earth is happening here?" but most were watching Viktor with genuine interest and even admiration. While his latest antic was bewildering, it was also mesmerizing. They had come to training expecting anything but this. It seemed even the gloomy walls of Slytherin momentarily forgot their strictness, succumbing to Viktor's infectious rhythm and unrestrained energy.
Finally, Viktor opened his eyes, his smile grew even wider, and he, interrupting his invisible concert, shouted over the fading music:
— Welcome, future champions! Let's make this training unforgettable!
A roar of excitement rolled through the spacious room.
— Well then, today our... — But his words were interrupted by another song, soft and lyrical, filling the air with gentle chords:
I see trees of green
Red roses too
I see them bloom
Viktor, instantly shedding his image of an invincible leader, jumped towards the speaker and cut off the lyrical chords. Turning to the bewildered audience, he tried to adopt a serious expression.
— I don't listen to that kind of music! — he declared seriously. — And anyway, I don't know where that came from.
A deafening silence ensued. The Slytherins simply stared at him in confusion. Viktor, unable to bear the oppressive silence, shouted:
— Fine, I like the song! And you have no right to judge me!
Hermione, who had been silent until now, finally couldn't take it anymore.
— Viktor, no one is judging you. There's no one here to judge you; these are Slytherins. They've spent their whole lives in the magical world and don't really know our music, — she explained. — But Rocky, seriously?
Viktor's eyes, which had just been full of indignation, widened in surprise.
— My dear Hermione, you know Rocky?
— Well, yes, — Hermione nodded. — It's my dad's favorite movie, he watches it all the time.
Viktor thought about it and nodded.
— Okay, where was I? Oh, right, welcome to... — Viktor suddenly fell silent, his gaze drifting to an old clock on the wall. Seeing that it was already past ten, he made a sharp motion with his hand. The door to the common room closed with a dull thud, hiding them from any curious eyes outside.
He raised his hands in triumph.
— The first meeting of Fight Club! — his voice boomed, and at that very moment, hundreds of small fireworks began to explode throughout the room, scattering cascades of emerald and silver sparks.
When the lights faded, Viktor's voice became serious, cutting through the sound of applause. Everyone instantly fell silent, listening intently to every word.
— But before we begin, listen to the rules of Fight Club! — He paused, his gaze sweeping over the breathless Slytherins. — The first rule of the club is you do not talk about Fight Club. The second rule of the club is you do not talk about Fight Club anywhere. The third rule is no Killing Curses! Anyone who uses even one such spell will answer to me personally! The fourth rule, — a mischievous smile bloomed on his lips, — have fun, everyone!
The hall erupted in enthusiastic applause and approving shouts once again.
— Since we are just starting, and many of you don't even know how to properly defend yourselves, in the first sessions we will exclusively learn defensive spells to avoid unnecessary injuries. And only those who can block my spells will earn the right to learn and practice offensive spells!
A fourth-year student, a sturdy boy with short-cropped hair and a confident demeanor, raised his hand.
— What if I already know how to defend myself properly? — he asked, his voice filled with confidence.
Viktor looked at him and smiled broadly.
— Then please, demonstrate your skills for us.
The boy, feeling the eyes of the entire House on him, stepped forward and stood opposite Viktor. The other Slytherins, anticipating a spectacle, moved to the walls, giving them a spacious arena.
— You have to withstand a couple of my attacks, — Viktor began, his tone calm. — If you can, I will immediately begin teaching you some offensive spells.
The fourth-year student nodded, confident in his abilities. Since childhood, he had dreamed of becoming an Auror, so he spent a lot of time training. He believed that blocking a couple of spells from a first-year wouldn't be a problem, even if that first-year was Viktor.
— Are you ready? — Viktor asked, his eyes gleaming.
In response, the boy took out his wand and nodded vigorously, assuming a combat stance.
Viktor slowly took out his wand, and without a single word, without a visible incantation, he merely waved it elegantly. And at that very moment, the older student's wand slipped from his hand, flew through the air, and fell with a light thud a few steps behind him.
The boy stared in surprise at his empty hand, then at Viktor, and his face twisted with dissatisfaction.
— That's not fair! You didn't attack with a curse!
Viktor just shrugged, his smile becoming even wider.
— Disarming an opponent is also considered an attack, and a very effective one at that. But fine, if you're not happy with that, pick up your wand, and we'll start round two.
The Slytherin quickly grabbed his wand and stood before Viktor once more, this time with much more caution.
— I'm ready! — he exclaimed, trying to sound confident.
Viktor nodded, pointed his wand at him, and a bright spell shot out.
The boy instinctively raised his wand, shouting "Protego!" and the shield successfully absorbed the impact. But that didn't help him, as he already saw a second, even faster spell flying towards him, almost instantaneously. He tried to block it as well, but the interval between the first and second attack was too short, and the bright beam hit him directly, causing his body to freeze in place like a statue. His wand fell limply to the floor.
Viktor slowly lowered his wand, and the frozen fourth-year remained a motionless statue, silently demonstrating the consequences of overconfidence to everyone. Viktor's gaze swept over the hushed Slytherins.
— Any other volunteers who want to show off their level of defense? — His voice sounded calm.
A deathly silence hung in the air in response. No one dared to challenge him.
— I thought so, — Viktor smiled. — Well then, we will start with the basic spell Protego. Those who have not yet learned it, go to the left side. And those who already know how to use Protego, go to the right side and practice on your own. As soon as I finish explaining the basics to them, I'll come over and see what you can do.
The Slytherins, having received their instructions, began to spread out in the hall, forming two groups. Viktor walked over to the frozen student. The smile vanished from his face.
— Being confident is a good thing, — he said in a quiet but piercing voice. — But that confidence should come from vast experience or grueling training. Today, you came out overconfidently against me and simply froze. And next time, you'll stand like that in front of some scumbag who already has dozens of murders to their name, and you'll just be added to their list. Think about that. — Viktor gently patted his shoulder, and the wizard was finally able to move, taking a deep breath.
As Viktor began to walk away, the fourth-year, standing in place, stared at Viktor's retreating back. Even though he had lost today to someone three years younger than him, he felt no irritation or humiliation. He had been defeated not by just any first-year, but by the most exceptional student in the entire school, a person whose abilities clearly exceeded all expectations. He looked at Viktor with eyes full of admiration. If Dumbledore had seen this look, he would have been truly alarmed, for it was the same kind of look that had once been directed at Grindelwald. A look of complete respect, reverence, and even adoration.
Viktor walked over to the speaker, lowered the volume a bit, and turned the music on again.
— Well, my friends, — his voice, now full of enthusiasm, echoed through the hall. — Now we'll start turning you into real wizards!
The Slytherins began to smile, anticipating the upcoming training, their eyes burning with the fire of determination. Even Hermione began to smile enthusiastically.
Seven hours flew by. The students, although tired, were happy with the first session. At the end, Viktor handed out bracelets to everyone so they could enter the club whenever they wanted, without his personal presence.
As everyone began to disperse, Hermione walked up to him.
— Viktor, can I bring Harry and Ron to the next session? — she asked, hope in her eyes.
Viktor looked at her sternly, his face becoming unreadable.
— What's the first rule of Fight Club? — he asked emotionlessly.
— But they're my friends! — Hermione persisted, her voice filled with desperation.
— What's the second rule of Fight Club? — Viktor repeated in the same strict tone, not moving.
Hermione instantly understood: Viktor would not agree. She pouted, her lips forming a thin line, and she huffed.
— Fine! We have plenty to do anyway! — She turned abruptly and left.
Viktor watched her go, then turned to Daphne.
— It's your fault she's upset, — Viktor said tiredly. — You shouldn't have invited her.
Daphne just rolled her eyes, letting him know she wasn't interested in this conversation.
Viktor sighed wearily, and his gaze grew hazy. He began to remember the exact moment his sweet secretary had become so corrupted.