"Today is Dudley's birthday," said Harry, shrugging his shoulders. "I figured I would come here and see if you were up for a spar Master Wei."
When Harry had first found the Dao, he had been an enraged youth who was not only not afraid to threaten violence against his relatives, but had no compunctions on following through with his threats when his demands were not met. There had been several instances where Harry would use his powers to throw his uncle or cousin through a wall in order to get his way. That was part of the reason neither Dudley nor Vernon talked to him, and why Petunia feared him.
It was Master Chang Wei who had seen what the young boy was becoming, took Harry in and taught him that rage and hatred would not help him in life. When Master Wei's point had finally sunken in, Harry had been horrified to realize that he had been treating his relatives exactly how he had been treated. The very notion that he was becoming the very thing he hated had disgusted him so much that he had done his best to change, and vowed to never become like them.
It had taken Harry nearly a year of meditation, contemplation, and getting pounded into the dirt while being told "Martial Arts is not just a way of fighting, but an art and an oath. An art that allows one to express themselves in movement, and an oath to never use combat and violence unless it is the only way to defend yourself and the innocent" by the old Chinese Martial Arts master before Harry had been able to move truly past most of his hatred of the Dursleys. He still didn't like them, and probably never would, but he wouldn't let himself be ruled by hatred. He was better than that. He was better than them.
"Same as every year, then," Said Master Wei. "Change into your uniform, and meet me on the mat."
"Yes, Master," said Harry, bowing before he went into the locker room that one of the doors at the end of the hall led to. He came back bare foot and wearing a simple white gi with a blue belt, only three steps down from a black belt. Harry was not only a quick study, but worked very hard to earn his rank and was considered to be something of a prodigy. Of course, that was only by the standards of the other students, according to Master Wei, he was a clumsy fool with no coordination and lacked the finesse needed to master the fine art of combat. Than again, Master Wei said that to everyone he taught so it didn't bother Harry too much.
"You know the routine, Harry," said Master Wei as Harry stood before him, looking straight ahead as was proper.
"Yes, Master," Harry dropped down on his feet and knuckles and began doing push-ups, counting in the basic Chinese number system until he reached a figure that Master Wei was satisfied with, that number being one hundred and twenty.
"Up!" Commanded the old man, and Harry kicked his feet up so that he was performing a handstand. It didn't take long for Harry to stabilize himself and find his balance, he had been doing this for so long now it was almost second nature.
"One hand!" Harry's breathing began to get heavy as he lifted his right hand so that he was standing on his left. When Wei commanded "Left!" he switched hands again.
"Bend!" said Master Wei. Harry let out a small grunt as his feet moved over his head, and where he feet were previously facing away from the wall, they were now planted firmly on the ground facing the mirror as he formed a bridge with his stomach pointed to the ceiling –
"Oof!"
– only for Master Wei to kick his feet and knock him to the ground several seconds after the bridge had been formed, saying, "your form is not sturdy enough. Your form must always be like a wall, unmovable and strong. Were your form sturdy that little tap would not have been enough for you to fall."
"Yes, Master Wei," said Harry as he stood up, knowing better then to contest the small man. The last time he did Harry had gotten beat worse than usual.
"And now we spar."
Harry got into his opening combat stance after hearing Master Wei's words, left foot forward, right foot back, legs spread shoulder width apart while his knees were bent ever so slightly. He stood on the balls of his feet, prepared to shift or push off them at a moments notice. Along with his stance, Harry could feel a heightened sense of anticipation for the upcoming spar, the same feeling of adrenaline rush he always got when sparring with the diminutive master.
The fight, if one could call it that, was not so much of a fight as it was a beating, a beating that Harry was on the receiving end of. While Harry was actually quite talented at hand-to-hand combat, Master Wei had decades of experience over him, and from what he knew the man was a former soldier who had participated in the Vietnam war when he was only seventeen years old. Even with all of Harry's prodigal talents, he was simply no match for a man who had looked death in the face and survived overwhelming odds.
"I believe we are done for the day, young one," said Master Wei to a panting Harry. The young man was hunched over and taking in large gulps of air as if the stuff was going out of style. At least he wasn't laying prone on his back and nearing unconsciousness like he sometimes was after getting the crap kicked out of him. "Go wash up and head home."
Harry did as told, using the communal shower in the back to wash and get dressed in his street clothes, only instead of heading home, he went to the library.
Even before Harry had found the Dao the library had been a sanctuary for him. The story's that were found in books allowed for an escape from the realities of his life, the hardships he had endured and the scars it had left on his psyche. Harry had always been a fast study, in school he had learned what was taught long before the other students. During recess he used to spend his time in the school library, reading anything and everything he could get his hands on. Before Harry had really started coming to in his martial arts, he had been very anti-social, often spending all his recess and lunch in the library reading. When he had exhausted all of the books in the school library, he had asked a teacher, and been given directions to the public library, which was not that far from Private Drive or his school.