Chapitre 55: Chapter 53
Since all the ladies present — minus a few exceptions like Medea — were eager to enjoy some entertainment at our expense, the great witches organized everything fairly quickly. Semiramis, as the initiator of the whole event and a neutral party without an apprentice, was the one to come up with the challenges.
The other great witches, along with their younger protégés, on the other hand… argued. Specifically, about what the tournament arena would look like and how the event would proceed. There was less debate about the arena's appearance — most wanted to expand the space magically, setting up shields just in case, so that stray spells wouldn't hit the audience. Besides Avada and a few other deadly curses, which are rare worldwide, they wouldn't suffer serious damage… but who wants to clean up Fiendfyre?
As Medea explained briefly, large-scale spells couldn't be used in this place — or at least, not by their standards. Their standards being those of the Great Witches. That's also why their frequent arguments rarely escalate beyond a certain point.
And as for their "standards"… I could imagine what the Colchian woman meant. These would be spells of the Fortress-Breaker or City-Destroyer class, as they're ranked in Durmstrang. Not even all multi-century-old attendees here could perform them, let alone the vast majority of ordinary wizards and, certainly, us apprentices.
Returning to the arguments… the lovely ladies debated how exactly to organize the tournament; there were tons of ideas. Most wanted a typical magical brawl, while some voiced ideas about continuing an intellectual duel, and others objected to the idea of combat altogether, as they hadn't raised their apprentice as a fighter. Some complained about the simplicity of the contests… and so on and so forth.
Were they ordinary people, the dispute would have been quickly suppressed by the overwhelming majority who supported a straightforward combat tournament… but none of the great witches had any intention of backing down from their positions, even when they were in the extreme minority or standing alone. Plus, their thoughts seemed to wander down the most convoluted paths imaginable, sometimes changing opinions halfway through a sentence, sometimes staying firm purely out of stubbornness, and doing countless things only loosely connected with logic. To top it off, they needed to reach a unanimous decision. At least formally.
But most importantly… you could tell they enjoyed these arguments. They absolutely adored them, relishing in every squabble over nothing. Even Medea, who usually watched in silent contempt, seemed to find some amusement. None of them maintained a composed face, so the other apprentices noticed as well and stopped listening to their esteemed mentors after the second minute of particularly "brilliant" ideas.
But whatever we thought of their behavior, they could afford it, brushing aside all norms and conventions of both the modern and ancient worlds thanks to their personal power. And, honestly, I found that rather admirable, rather than irritating. I'm not lacking in patience.
If I were forced to obey rules I despise (rules that, for these women, stem from the patriarchal societies of past centuries and millennia), I'd also work on strengthening myself, just like the heroes in countless stories.
After all, I'm neither Harry Potter nor a Hogwarts student with any risk of getting flattened by the machinery of canon events, forced to struggle and hoard knowledge from every source to gain strength as quickly as possible.
…Or so I thought, until I managed to land myself in a double dose of trouble in one week. And this trouble has nothing to do with canonical events, with which I naively measured the rest of the world. I knew full well that, in the real world, the wizarding world wasn't limited to Britain and a single school in particular. I'd lived fifteen years quite peacefully and assumed it would stay that way… though I should have known better after my first encounter with Medea, who, as it turned out, would continue to be a catalyst for similar events.
Here, the desire for a peaceful life clashes with a hunger for knowledge that isn't available from any source.
The worst part is, I'm leaning toward the latter. So I don't hesitate to call my meeting with the Colchian woman fateful. She's managed to sow doubts in my own desires. Without her, I could have peacefully lived the life of one among hundreds of pure-bloods, standing out only in certain respects due to my rebirth.
But now knowledge fascinates me, and I'm transforming from a Slytherin into a Ravenclaw. Knowledge that I won't even gain by following in the footsteps of a Dark Lord and wandering the world's dangerous places for half my life.
While I was lost in musings on the meaning of existence and other significant matters, the argument had more or less died down. Semiramis had finished designing the tests and started pacifying the disputants, eager to get the event underway. Although I was certain that, had she been one of the mentors, she would've been the loudest of them all. But apparently, the authority of the Gathering's head still held some weight, as even these ladies managed to settle down.
The conclusion was that the tournament's combat part would be split into two stages. The first would be a standard one-on-one duel in the arena, and the second… well, they'd decided to make us run all over the Babylonian Tower, collecting golden galleons while fending off weak summoned creatures and solving various riddles to earn more of the same.
Victory would be based on the combined score from our placement in the tournament and the number of galleons collected in the "race."
Rules were quickly established: mentors were forbidden from aiding their apprentices. And to prevent us from breaking any of our own few rules, the great witches would be randomly assigned to monitor us discreetly and impartially.
So, our multi-millennial mentors were basically reduced to tournament staff… which, oddly enough, seemed to amuse them. None of them would ever dream of giving an advantage to a rival.
Technically, we're the ones competing, but in practice, this is a battle between these wise, ancient beings who've studied each other in depth. Whoever won in one contest or another would be known immediately. That, I realized, was the very problem with direct confrontation that Medea had explained from the start.
We're the element of surprise and freshness they crave for their rivalry. Nothing more, nothing less. It's worth keeping this in mind (and I sincerely doubt most of the apprentices get it). I'm increasingly grateful that fate paired me with a somewhat outcast witch.
"You didn't really think you'd be having fun at our expense, did you?" Semiramis's expressive voice broke into my thoughts. "No, you didn't understand. We're the ones having fun here, and always will be. If anyone doesn't like that arrangement, feel free to voice it. Go on." In response, the younger Gathering attendees fell silent. "Excellent."
"Free cheese only comes in a mousetrap," Baba Yaga chuckled in addition.
"So quickly gather around and get ready for the trials. I've already sent everything you need directly to your heads. Work, work, faster, faster!" Semiramis clapped her hands impatiently.
I managed to bite my tongue, barely stopping myself from muttering "Arbeiten-arbeiten, schnell-schnell." Nope, best not to make enemies here. Even if, compared to the great witches, the rest of the attendees are just… midgets, any one of them could devour a pure-blood family whole without blinking. Or come up with some… elaborate revenge.
"And while these slackers are off to work… hey, you lot…" she turned her attention to us whispering apprentices. "We'll conduct a test right here and now."
I glanced at my fellow "unfortunates," who looked more than a little surprised, then raised an eyebrow and looked around at the vacant stone benches. So, everyone got roped into this, no exceptions.
"Who cares, blondie," Semiramis remarked, noticing my expression. "Who'd want to watch you solve tests? They'll all be interested in the results — and our discussions afterward."
The witches laughed, none of them denying or sugarcoating reality. They were far too intelligent to indulge in ordinary human vices unwittingly.
With a snap of her fingers, Semiramis summoned tables and chairs with a medieval look to them, and on each table appeared sheets of paper and magical quills. For some of us, myself included, such details were familiar, but a few others widened their eyes in surprise.
Baba Yaga clicked her tongue and transfigured an ordinary ballpoint pen for her apprentice, who had clearly never written with a quill. Some of the others looked on with interest but said nothing.
The sheets were blank, but once everyone was finally seated in no particular order, the chief mischief-maker spoke up:
"As for the rules, each of you will have different questions, but they'll all be of equal difficulty, so no one gets an advantage. You can glance at each other's answers as much as you want — no one cares. But no talking or using mental magic, if any of you even have the skill. If you do, we'll notice, and the offender will get an express ticket to meet the dragons, understood?" the black-haired witch explained as clearly as possible, to which we all nodded in unison.
"As they say in Morgan's homeland — let's go!" Semiramis signaled, and questions appeared on the sheets, along with a note to write our answers on the second sheet.
Now, let's see what they've dreamed up for our brains.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone