Aka Ido. The Art of the Red Herring.
Harry was well aware that he was misreading the sign.
He didn't care, though. It was a good misreading.
Oh, he knew the looks he'd get, if he ever told Hermione that he'd decided to learn how to fight.
What, did he really think that he'd be using his feet and hands against magic?
That wasn't the point, however.
It was discipline, and something to learn.
Besides, the Greeks would talk about A Sound Mind in a Sound Body - and it was one of the few things he could actually practice while in the Muggle world.
Not to mention, dodging spells was still a thing.
Harry bowed to his instructor. He then started a kata, a series of motions that was peaceful in its simplicity.
Cut left, cut right, punch, kick. Kick again, deflect, dodge.
He wasn't the best at this - it was his first year, and he wasn't even top of the class.
Harry didn't care.
He was getting better, and that was what mattered.
And this was a skill that nobody would expect.
It was always best to be underestimated, Harry'd known since he was six.
In fact, it had been his Aunt Petunia who'd told him that!
Harry nearly froze at the thought. Stay small, keep quiet, don't get noticed.
From Aunt Petunia?
And yet, she was, to all appearances, the perfect housewife. The perfect lady of the house.
...
which just made Harry consider, what was she hiding?
Harry considered his Aunt, stealing quick glances sometimes when he thought she wasn't looking. Unfortunately, there was a limit to the information you could get without talking with someone. And Harry was pretty sure he was close to that limit. He still wasn't clear about who she really was. She just played the perfect housewife, well, perfectly. He'd even been fooled when she'd stepped out of it, a little, to tell him to figure out his own path.
Harry's curiosity could wait, however. He had an owl to catch. He knew, from talking with Percy - an overweening font of information, if you just were willing to look past his, well, overweeningness and pomposity, that he was going to get his grades by owl, along with a book list and what not.
Uncle Vernon would shoot anything that flew - that was why Harry hadn't brought his "owl pet" home. It had been white, and pretty, and Harry had occasionally found time to give it a bit of spare food (there was a lot at Hogwarts).
He could no more bring the feathered beast home to be murdered (and eaten, if it were possible), than spit in the sea and turn it red.
Harry needed to rescue the owl.
He'd had a lot of thoughts on how to do it, too. Akaido was great for thinking.
[a/n: This is what happens when you let boys choose what they should do. Leave a review?]