Sensei took the box Harry carried and led the way to his office, where he set the box on his desk. He untied the broad ribbon holding it closed, then pulled the top off. As he pulled back the tissue covering the gift he couldn't hold back a gasp. He couldn't resist pulling the kimono from the box to get a complete look at the design.
"God, Harry, I can't accept this. It… It's too much."
"Please, Sensei. You must accept. I… I designed it thinking of you. Thinking of what you mean to me, what you gave me. It's because of you I can be the person I am today. Years ago you took me and taught me about honor, and respect and strength. You taught me about discipline and compassion. You took an angry, hurting boy who would do anything for a sign of acceptance and you taught him that he first had to respect himself. You taught me to see what is out there, things like beauty and that man is just a dust mote in the cosmos. You taught me that I could chart my own course. You taught me that I could rise above what others expected of me and be a better person for it.
"I was originally going to give you this as a ink drawing on rice paper. But then a woman whose family makes kimonos saw it and several of my other artworks and we bargained. They got twelve of my designs and I got three kimono at cost. This was one of the three."
"But… this is worth thousands of pounds, Harry."
"The money is nothing to me. I know when I was younger money from my aunt and uncle was an issue, but we found out around the time I started my boarding school that I actually have a sizable trust fund. A fund that should have been looking after me all along but due to a paperwork foul-up it didn't. As result I have a lot of extra interest that is discretionary income. I wanted you to have this, because even its monetary value is only a partial repayment on the value of what you taught me."
"You designed this?"
"The motif, yes."
"Wow, I had no idea you were such a gifted artist." He looked into the earnest face of the boy he'd had been teaching of for the last seven years. He remembered the small boy who had first stepped into his dojo: scrawny, afraid, obedient without question, starving for some approval. He remembered the lessons in and out of the dojo: kempo, archery, kendo, knives, astronomy, navigation, bushido, survival, codes and code breaking. He remembered the gifts he'd given Harry out of his own pocket; most often books or a gently used uniform when Harry had outgrown the gies his family bought for the year. Then he thought in terms of what those lessons and gifts must have meant to the emotionally neglected boy. "I am honored." He gave his student a deep bow.
"The honor is mine, Sensei." Harry gave him a deep return bow of respect. Just then they both heard the door open as the first class of the day started to come in. "Shall I change and give you a hand, Sensei?"
"Yes, then after the class we will spar and see where you're at; after a school year away." As Harry took his daypack and darted for the locker room the more dedicated long term students used, Sensei John Howard looked once more at the gorgeous kimono with its bamboo, crane and stream motif. Then he carefully tucked it back into its box. He would have to get a proper display bar for it.
Dance camp wound up being a riot from the word go. Harry, Neville and Dudley were three of six boys compared to four times as many girls. Many of the girls were younger and smaller. There were also seven older girls who eyed the boys like they were candy. Neville and Dudley being big, husky boys with a certain amount of athleticism, found themselves in trouble whenever they were dancing with a much smaller girl, much to Harry's amusement. The first week they were learning the waltz, the cha cha, and the merengue. Harry kept confusing the rhythm of the steps on the latin dances and was amused when the niece of the dance teacher, chewed him out for tripping on her during the waltz, only to have her aunt tell her she was the one who had caused the accident for failing to follow Harry's lead. His laughter, of course, saw to it he got scolded, much to Dudley and Neville's amusement.
Monday afternoon saw Harry to Longbottom Manor where he and Neville were schooled in the scottish reel, and the quadrille.
Tuesday was a relief because after camp Aunt Petunia had Rose's biological mother baby-sit, and took Harry, Dudley, and a friend she wanted to impress to Wimbledon for one of the matches. Harry was pleased to see his guess that the Flamels would be in attendance was accurate.
"Tante Nell, Oncle Nic, I wondered if I would see you here. Merci mille fois, (Thanks a thousand times) for the tickets."
"Harry, I am so pleased you could make it." Nell's melodious voice washed over Harry. "And it was my pleasure. I'm just sorry our plans for the summer fell through."
"Moi aussi." (Me too.)
Nic who had let his wife handle the initial greeting said, "So, who have you brought with you?"
"Sir Nicolas Flamel, Lady Perenelle Flammel, May I present to you my aunt, Petunia Dursley, my cousin, Dudley Dursley, and our neighbor, Mrs. Johnson. Aunt Petunia, Dudley, Mrs. Johnson these are my friends Sir Nicolas and Lady Perenelle Flammel. It looks like things are about to get underway so we should probably take out seats."
"Quite." Nell agreed.
After the first game, Nell discovered neither Harry nor Dudley really understood the scoring. So she explained it. Dudley was bored by the end of the first hour. Harry found watching tennis interesting enough that he sort of wanted to try playing. He definitely admired the athleticism of the players. Four hours after it started the match finished. The Spanish player was moving on to the finals.
"So, Harry, what do you think?" Nell queried.
"The players have to be really fit and have a good grasp of angles."
"And you, Dudley?"
"I think it's not my cup of tea; although thank you for this opportunity, Lady Flamel."
"You are welcome."
That day set the tone for subsequent days; the Dursleys would use Harry's extra tickets to impress people they knew. Harry let them knowing it was easier than arguing. He enjoyed watching the different players and learning the game. The night of the last game, the night Vernon escorted him. After the match the Flamels asked if they could take Harry out to dinner with them. Vernon agreed because he wanted to strike while the iron was hot and close the deal with the potential new clients.
At the restaurant Nic put a small spell on their server so she would know when they wanted her but otherwise would leave them alone. He then did a notice me not charm. Nell put up a muffliato so no one could overhear them.
"Cool spells, what do they do?" Harry commented.
....
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