Harry Evans Chapter 81: Vienna calling, woooh, oohhohh (Patreon)

Everyone’s attitude towards Harry changed from then onwards. Before, people had been somewhat patronising to the young boy seeking to distinguish himself at a place he was not yet qualified to be in. Perhaps no one had said anything and perhaps his first victory had shut some people up, but the atmosphere had still decisively been hostile. As if he was an outsider.

However, after his defeat of Habsburg and by default his mentor, Pierre. Harry got the feeling that he had become to a certain extent the centre of attention and respect. 

People were looking at him, whispering, and not in an insulting manner either. He felt observed. He wasn't sure if he preferred it to the previous humouring of his presence.

Not that it mattered that much anyway. After Harry rejoined Flitwick at the bench, the two of them promptly left, the shorter man buzzing with excitement but throwing Harry nonetheless a reproachful look.

“You could have won without the deflection,” he said.

Harry smirked. No, he couldn't have. The mental attacks had not been at the level necessary to breach his defences in any way, and he would have to thank the hat for that. However, they had almost been a fatal distraction in several moments. He’d needed to finish that match as quickly as possible if he were to have finished it at all.

He wondered for a few moments if he should bother telling his professor about the cowardly incident of the mental attack. But, today he'd reached the top 18 and had thus fulfilled his goal. Winning two duels, showing that the first victory was not a fluke.

In a way, this had been a much better approximation of what a real life or death battle would look like, and he wasn't naive enough to believe that he'd never get into one. Fighting a semi-competent enemy while a second hidden person tried to sabotage his efforts. It had been good practice and a good challenge.

He decided not to say it. After all, there was no proof. Someone had been trying to help Habsburg win. Why he didn't know and didn't care. Perhaps they were trying to prop up one of their numbers as a future prodigy to heighten the prestige of their house.

But, with the boy out of the tournament, he wouldn't have to worry about that for the moment, until next year at least. Telling Flitwick now would just worry the man.

“I don't know the professor, you have to admit it was quite stylish,” he said teasingly as they walked out of the Colosseum and into the bright sunny day gracing Vienna. How crazy, to hide a stadium in the middle of a city this big. He glanced back at the large marble structure in the middle of Prater.

“There is something to celebrate in reaching the top 18, after all, I'm likely not getting much further.”

“Depends on who wins the next match, what you haven’t lost yet is not lost,” the man said.

“Too true, too true”.

“Good job,” Flitwick said with a lighter tone. “You have most likely written history today. I think the last person to enter the dealing tournament at your age was Grindelwald. I think he reached the top four.”

“Wouldn't that make the youngest winner of the tournament 14, not 15?” Harry asked.

His mentor shrugged. “He didn't participate next year but came back the year after that to win it all. Age 15."

"He probably had other things going on,” Harry amused.

“Let's go to a restaurant. I'm hungry from all that watching. You really kept me on my toes at some points there. It's time to celebrate. Until tomorrow that is.”

“Lead the way, professor,” Harry said. The places that would have become his favourite restaurants in the city likely didn't exist yet, so there was no point suggesting anything.

He'd been craving the lamb tajine from Le Petit Maroc for quite a while now. He’d probably have to wait another few decades.

-/-

The next day in the morning before his matches were set to start Harry was on his lonesome wandering the streets of the city equipped with nothing but a baseball cap,  sunglasses and muggle clothing to hide his identity. 

He didn't necessarily think that anyone was after him or going to harass him, but it was nice to pretend to be famous.

He’d never had a reason to go out like this before and it was cool to imagine a picture of him in a tabloid like this. Also, in the worst case that there was actually retribution coming his way for how soundly he’d trounced the idiot yesterday, it was better to be safe than sorry.

Harry had missed Vienna. He hadn't been here in a very very very long time. Almost an entire lifetime in fact. Haha. That was why he wanted to use the few hours he had to explore the city. Do something to relax. Training at this point would just be a waste of energy anyway.

He decided to do all the things that a tourist would generally do in his situation. He went up to the Gloriette in Schönbrunn, where he took an Almdudler and drank it with a full view of the beautiful gardens, along with the former Habsburg residency and the rest of the city.

He tried feeding a croissant that he'd not been able to finish to the ducks in the park, but the tourists likely fed them so much that they turned their noses up at anything that wasn't at least organic. He saw a fox, and some joggers, and then got on the tram to the city centre where he walked around and got himself an ice cream.  

The sky became slightly overcast. He went to Mumok, the modern art museum, lamenting the fact that Albertina Modern had not opened yet, but decided that at the end of the day, he couldn't be too picky. Also, by the time he was 40 years old and the thing opened, there would be nothing standing in the way between him simply popping over with a quick apparition.

It was while waiting in line at the Momuk that he came upon an interesting scene. A French family, debating in French at the ticket counter about the fact that they apparently did not have the proper documentation to prove that their children were indeed underage.

The reason why they didn't was it was a family of what seemed to be Veelas, along with two men. They likely had magical passports, but that was hardly something that they could show at a ticket office for a muggle museum.

Harry for this specific purpose had brought his muggle ID, designating him as a British citizen. A proper English lad. If only he'd been here a bit longer, he could have taken some ageing potion and gotten smashed on shitty Austrian beer in Ottakring. Just for old-time's sake. However, with the limited amount of time he was here, he’d have to pick his activities more intelligently.

The argument in front of him took a bit longer, a time during which Harry learned several new French curse words that he'd likely never find any reason to use, which concluded in the family having to pay the full group price. One of the girls whose age was under contention was one of his competitors, Delafleur. The family disappeared inside, allowing Harry to walk up to the frazzled ticket counter worker and showing the poor girl, likely just out of school, his ID. He was let in for free. One of the good things about his age. He didn't have to pay for stuff like this.

“Enjoy the exhibition,” the woman behind the desk said.

Harry gave her a smile and went inside.

He entered the first exhibition and immediately stumbled into another person, who was seemingly standing by the doors and, by the pound on her lips, was sulking.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't be standing here should I,” the girls said in utterly broken English that the writer shall not attempt to reproduce. It spoke well of her, that even when being in an apparently bad mood she found the time to be polite.

“Families, am I right.” Harry joked, in French, getting a delighted smile from the platinum-haired girl who seemed to be around his age.

“Yes I swear they make a loud mess everywhere we go,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “How did you manage to get rid of yours?” she asked.

“That is a secret that you will have to figure out for yourself. All families are different and ditching them requires a separate strategy depending on the situation.” Harry held out a hand. “I'm Harry, by the way.”

“I'm Fleur,” she introduced herself with a small smile.

Suffice it to say, upon meeting one of the few canon characters that were not English by heritage Harry decided to bite his teeth in.

“So, you're trying to find a way to run away from your family for a bit?” he asked.

The girl winced. “Well saying it like that is a bit.” She trailed off, looking at a painting of a plastic dog.

“You know, you could just ask. I know my way around here pretty well. You can just say you met someone from there and wanted to hang out with someone your age for a bit.” He looked at her family. An older cousin by about four years and a younger sister by about four as well. The little one, which must have been Gabrielle, had just attempted to touch a statue, which had triggered the alarm.

“Maybe you're right,” Fleur decided, cringing at the noise and turned around to go talk to her parents. She’d have to get in line, as the security guard didn’t look too amused.

She seemed to say goodbye, getting absent nods from her mother and father. Or aunt and uncle, who knew.

“Come on,” Harry said once the girl joined him again. “I know where to get the best ice cream in this whole goddamn town.”

He'd checked, they’d already opened.

-/-

“Had a relaxing day,” Flitwick asked in the evening once Harry had returned to the hotel.

“Relaxing?” Harry retorted. “Not so much, but it was fun.”

The disguise seemed to have worked on Fleur, who, having watched the duelling tournament, had not recognized him. She'd thought he was a muggle all the way through and had obviously been a little bit unsure how to ask to stay in contact. After all, any random muggle would be quite confused about getting an owl. Harry had told her that he was still staying here for a few days, so she wanted to hang out some other time they could still figure something out.

-/-

“I'm glad you had fun. You have to put your mind off these things in between or else you just induce anxiety. Fun's over though,” Flitwick announced when Harry came back. “I dug up some data about your next opponent. Apollo Antrakosis. See what kind of strategy we can come up with.”

Harry sat down at the table next to the man in the lounge of the hotel as he pulled out a stack of papers. Intimidatingly large, in fact. It seemed like Apollo had already had quite a career.

“Let's do that. My cards are out of my sleeves though so it's not going to be that straightforward as a simple surprise,” Harry said.

“Well, you did only show fire, the disarming jinx and the deflection. There's still a lot of things that you could surprise someone with and I'll tell you exactly what they are,” Filius said with a devious smile.

-/-

AN: Sorry, this chapter was likely completely unnecessary, other than perhaps showing what Harry does in his free time. But, I loved living in Vienna so much I just had to. If you're ever there, do go the le petit maroc, order the lamb tajine and the rosewater quark dessert.

Divine