That's right, Harry thought to himself. Today was Dudley's birthday, it was rather hard to forget about that, mainly because it was rather difficult to miss all of the presents that were practically hiding the table they sat on top of. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention a second television and the racing bike. Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was beyond Harry, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise – unless of course it involved punching somebody. For the first six years of Harry's life, he had been Dudley's favorite punching bag. Of course, all that had changed when he had come into his magic. Now the pig-faced boy was even more afraid of him than his aunt.
"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry said in a humoring voice. They both knew there was nothing she could do if he decided to be rebellious.
Petunia sniffed, nodded, and headed back towards the stairs to get Dudley. Harry had nearly finished making breakfast by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel – Harry usually wondered how many branches his cousin hit when he fell from the fat and ugly tree.
Harry put the plates of pancakes, eggs and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn't much room. He went back and grabbed his own food from under the grill, his toast, and sat down to eat. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.
"Thirty-six," he said, looking at his mother and father. Harry was impressed that his cousin could count that far, he used to only be capable of counting the number of fingers on his hands. "That's two less than last year."
"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from Mommy and Daddy."
"All right, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red in the face. Harry, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, moved over to the counter top to eat in case Dudley turned the table over.
Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger too, because she said quickly, "And we'll buy another two presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that alright?"
Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work for him. Finally he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty…thirty…"
"Thirty-nine, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia.
"Oh." Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."
Uncle Vernon chuckled.
"Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair.
There were a few moments of silence as everyone ate, and Dudley opened his presents. When they were finished, Harry took the plates away. As he grabbed Aunt Petunia's plate she fixed him with a look, "I do not want you here while we are at the zoo today."
Harry understood what she was really saying. Harry was never allowed in the house when no one was there; they did not trust him enough to leave him alone. "I plan on going to the Dao for a while, and then I'm going to head over to the library and meet up with Lisa," said Harry.
Petunia snorted, Vernon looked disgruntled, and Dudley looked constipated. When Harry was seven years old, he had found a small Dao that taught a variety of Chinese Martial Arts. It had taken various levels of violence threatened and a demonstration of Harry's magic by levitating several knifes and floating them around the three Dursley's before he was allowed to go. Dudley had wanted to go as well, but ended up quitting because it was too much work. None of them liked the fact that he went there, but could do nothing about it as Harry paid for his time there himself.
"Very well," said Petunia, while Vernon muttered about how 'freaks' shouldn't be allowed to learn how to fight.
Just then, the doorbell rang – "Oh, good Lord, they're here!" said Aunt Petunia frantically – and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Peirs Polkiss, waked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people's arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Or at least he was, before Harry decided to intervene every time he saw them about to start their bullying, whether they still did that when he wasn't around was unknown.
Not more than a few minutes later, the Dursleys and Piers were gone and Harry was walking to the Dao. Along the way he offered a small wave to Mr. Fig, a woman who owned several dozen cats and had, on rare occasion babysat him when he was younger, as well as a few other people in the neighborhood.
Because Harry paid for everything that was his, he had offered to mow the lawns of the residents of Private Drive for five pounds an hour. While quite a few people had not trusted him, in no small part due to Petunia's gossiping about him being a horrible, demented child, Harry had found several people who had agreed to his offer, and pretty soon word had spread and he was mowing the lawn of nearly everyone on the entire block. Petunia had been pretty burned up about that since most people had discounted her words because Harry always made sure to remain respectful. It had been a long time before the horse-necked woman had gained her credibility with the other gossiping women of Privet Drive after that.
Half an hour later Harry reached a small, inconspicuous building that looked somewhat run down. The only reason anyone would have been able to recognize it as a martial arts Dao was the sign that showed two people in combat above the door.
Harry opened the door and entered.
The inside of the building was a simple looking room. At the front there was a small desk with an old, worn out cash register on top of it, there was a book case standing against the wall next to the desk forming a ninety degree angle, and was holding various books on combat, pressure points, acupuncture and medicinal plants. The area beyond the desk was covered by a large blue mat, on one side was a mirror that ran along the wall, on the other side were several stands that had swords, staffs, Kusari-gama's and even a scythe on them. At the end of the room was a hall with four doors.
"Ah, Harry, I was wondering if you would come in today," said a small, old Chinese man. Standing at a little shorter then Harry himself, Master Chang Wei did not strike an imposing figure. In fact, most people would have found his stature to be quite humorous. However, Harry did not let the man's size fool him. Despite being over seventy years old, Master Wei could beat Harry six ways to Sunday with one hand tied behind his back, hopping on one foot, while blindfolded. He had done it plenty of times in the past and could still do so now.