Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing in regards to Harry Potter or Daredevil. All properties therein are those of their creators. I am only a writer working on my skills with worlds and characters that I love.

Note: I've been a fan of Daredevil for quite some time, but I only recently read The Man Without Fear by Frank Miller and damn but this idea hit me like a brick when I did. How would things change if Matt Murdock was really Harry Potter?

-In this work Lily is still alive.

-Harry does not have a horcrux.

-Major HP elements will show up at a later point in the story. Sorry, but I need to build the world, and I won't deny my enjoyment of working in the Daredevil universe. Gonna be a mixture of the Frank Miller version and the Netflix show. The Avengers are likely to show up at one point too but I'm not spoiling that.

Note: Just to head this off, yes Harry is going to be pretty Catholic. It's a part of Matt Murdock's character, and it would be a 'sin' (see what I did there) to take it away just because I'm tweaking the origins.

Note: During my research I found something interesting. Daredevil, in many iterations including Frank Miller's run, doesn't have a set in stone 'No Killing' rule. To be sure, he tries to avoid outright murder at every opportunity, but he has crossed the proverbial line on many separate occasions. He merely tries to go for nonlethal force whenever he can and does everything in his power to protect life, but when there is no other option he is willing to get his hands dirty.

Note: Just making it clear, the Murdock mother isn't leaving the family in this fic. The reasons were always vague in the comics, and it isn't the kind of character I want to work with. It's called fanfiction for a reason, and I do what I want.

Chapter One - New York Travels

"Freak!"

"Waste of space!"

"Get back here and take your beating, you little shit!"

Little Harry Potter, only six years old, ran for his life from #4 Privet Drive. It had been a day like any other, he had been angrily woken at five in the morning, forced into cleaning the living room and kitchen, and then made to make the Dursley's breakfast as he'd been instructed to since he was four. Now most four year olds would barely be able to peruse a kitchen, much less make use of its contents to cook, but Harry was smart, incredibly so, and his evil aunt made use of that fact to bend him to her and her walrus of a husband's needs. For the most part he'd made use of those needs to make himself necessary, and to avoid beatings. There were rules, duties, obligations, that had been made clear to him from day one, and if he followed them then bad things weren't supposed to happen.

Except this time they had. He'd done what he was supposed to. The chores were finished by the time the family woke up, the paper and coffee were ready and waiting for Vernon, and he'd been ready to serve the trio of monstrous relatives at the appointed time with plates ready and loaded in his arms. Everything as it should be and at its proper time and place…. And then Dudley had stuck his foot out and tripped him, sending his little body tumbling and the plates all over the table and Vernon himself.

As he'd risen Harry had seen the look of thunder on the big man's face, the fiery red of his rage crawling up his neck, and the jerking motions of his hands as he'd pulled the belt off his waist in preparation of excruciating use. All the while Petunia and Dudley looked on with rapt attention and glee. In another world, another time, Harry would have taken his beating lying down and carried on, growing ever more used to the pain and misery of his life until he turned eleven and found some measure of freedom and safety in a far off castle. In this one however, the boy felt a sudden surge in his chest that made him rise to his feet and dart out the front door, already unlocked in preparation of him going out after breakfast to handle the weeding of the garden.

As Vernon and the others shouted for him to come back and take his punishment, he darted off as fast as he could. Years of Harry Hunting at Dudley's hand had forced him to develop strong legs and he was faster than a rabbit as he zipped around the corner and out of sight. It was wrong, so wrong. The rules had been followed, everything was neat and orderly, and yet one person breaking the habit, one person squandering the rules, had let a cruel man have every justification he needed to hurt him again. Harry shuddered as his shirt rode up the still healing welts on his back from the last beating. He didn't want to feel them anymore. He didn't want any new ones. He wanted, no he needed, somewhere safe. Somewhere to hide out at least until his uncle calmed down and he could slink back after the man had forgotten all about him. Where? Where was safe?

His answer came from far ahead as the sound of church bells began to ring, calling the people to Sunday service. The Dursleys always claimed to be respectable churchgoing folk to their neighbors, but Harry had never once seen them go. Certainly they'd never taken him, but he'd heard the neighborhood kids talking about church before and he remembered an animated movie that Dudley had once watched called the Hunchback of Notre Dame. More specifically, he remembered the gypsy woman in it begging for sanctuary and being protected from her pursuer as a result. That was it!

The little boy followed the sounds of the bells halfway across the town of Surrey until he came to a large white building with a tall spire. The ringing was coming from the top where an authentic bell was swinging back and forth. Quickly joining the rest of the milling crowd he took a seat at the back and, being curious, decided to wait and see what happened. He could ask the priest for sanctuary when it was done and the graying man wasn't so clearly busy with his speech.

And what a speech it was. The sermon was an hour of the priest informing the people gathered of the love of God, the merits of forgiveness, and how they should grow to love each other more every day and seek to better themselves in the eyes of the Lord. Harry had never heard anyone speak with such zeal and passion, yet still be warm and open at the same time. Many were the passionate rants of Vernon Dursley, but his were full of wrath and vitriol for his coworkers and superiors. The priest genuinely seemed to care about those before him and their lives. It was… nice. Sitting there in that church, with the sun shining through the multicolored glass, and the warm baritone of the priest ringing out, the boy felt safe, truly safe, for perhaps the first time that he could actually recall.

All too soon it was done however. The organ began to play the outro, the priest left to greet the people at the door, and the people began ferrying themselves out to the parking lot until only he remained. A short time later the priest returned to begin gathering some randomly placed hymnal books and suddenly took note of the incredibly small child sitting alone in the farthest pew from his pulpit.

"Oh? Well hello there, young man. Can I help you?"

"Sanctuary." The child whispered.

"I'm sorry, young man, these old ears don't hear as well as they used to. Could you speak up just a bit?"

"Sanctuary!" Harry practically sobbed out. The sermon had drawn out all of his emotions and he couldn't have acted normal if he'd tried at this point. "Please, give me sanctuary!"

Father Patrick blinked with surprise. In all his years of seminary and open practice as a priest, he had never had anyone ask for sanctuary in one of his churches. It was a bit outdated, and hadn't been used in any recent times that he could recall, but that being said, he'd not be the first to deny the request. Taking a seat in the pew ahead of him he asked, "Now, why would you need to seek sanctuary with me, little one? And what is your name?"

"H-Harry P-Potter." Harry answered. For the first question he was understandably nervous as nobody had ever believed him before, but there was just something comforting and trusting about the white collared man before him. He somehow knew that what he said would be taken seriously. So he told him everything, every little detail, and when he was done he turned and lifted his shirt to show the still red welts and already healed scars on his back. "I-I need somewhere safe."

"Oh, my dear, dear, boy." Father Patrick pulled the child into a tight hug and lamented at the way he froze in his arms and began to shudder. He quickly pulled away before he could scare him further and simply placed his hands on the child's shoulders. "You can stay in my office for now. It has a couch and an attached bathroom. I'll bring you meals and books to read and in the meantime I'll look into your living situation to try and find a solution."

"R-R-Really?" Tears were starting to fall down Harry's face and for the first time they were not of sadness. No, they were tears of relief. Relief that finally someone had believed him, had actually listened when he begged for help.

The priest seemed to sense this as he answered, "My boy, the church exists to aid those in need. True most of our aid is spiritual in nature, but we never turn away those that come to our need help, so I will help you. It is as simple as that."

From there Father Patrick got the lad settled in, brought in some spare clothes from the storage room that actually fit him, and took off to visit a particular few members of his flock. Constable Barkley at the Surrey PD searched for the young lad's birth, medical, and adoption records, and when not a single one could be found searched for those of the Dursleys. That provided a more worrying set of circumstances. According to him, there was no record of the family taking in their young nephew. What was present however were several reports by worried neighbors that a young child was being abused under their roof that were never followed up on.

"There are thirty four reports." Patrick had been aghast at the number. "How in heaven is that little boy still living there?"

Barkley grimaced as he read the name of the person who filed the last three documents. "I don't know about the first thirty one. My only guess is that since no other child was listed at that residence the officers on duty must have thought they were prank calls. We get more than a few from the youth around here. However, the last three were filed by Detective Inspector Dursley."

"Dursley?"

"Seems Vernon's cousin is on the Force."

The priest groaned and rubbed his face in exasperation. "No wonder the boy was so nervous about coming forward to me. He's probably asked the police for help before and been turned away."

The cop sighed and nodded, "It is possible. We try to help everyone we can, but you know how it is, Father. Sometimes people fall through the cracks. I'm only happy you came to me with this now so we can figure out what to do."

Father Patrick grinned at the positive tone leaking into his parishioner's voice. "You have a plan?"

"I have a plan. But first, do you have a lawyer you can call on to spin up some documentation?"

"I have five in my flock that would be happy to put this on their record as pro bono work."

"And are you on good terms with any magistrates?"

"At least three."

"Excellent, and do you have a safe and secure home to send him to? Preferably one that is outside the country?"

"Why would that matter? What's your plan, John?"

The cop seemed to order his thoughts for a few moments before answering. "Father, remember how we couldn't find Young Harry's records? He has none. He's a literal blank slate in our country. Right now the only ones that know that are you and me and that gives us a bit of time."

"Time for what?"

"To file his records all at once. We need a safe home for Harry, and it needs to be one far away from the Dursleys or he will never feel like he can stop looking over his shoulder. Believe me, I've dealt with situations like his before."

Suddenly starting to see where this was going, the priest said, "So if I find a couple willing to adopt him overseas,"

"And your lawyer gets everything filed the right way,"

"To a magistrate that I'm friendly with,"

"Then he can start a new life, in a new place, as a free boy. There is a lot of gray area here to work in, but as I said, sometimes things just fall through the cracks." The cop lightened the tone of the last few words with a conspiratorial wink. "First find a family to take him and then give me a call to get the paperwork ready for your lawyer friend. If all goes well we can have your little wayward lamb on a flight within the week. By the time anyone even thinks to double check his new records it'll be too late and he'll be well on his way to foreign citizenship."

What followed was a visit to two lawyers and a magistrate who all agreed to aid him after hearing of the young boy's circumstances. The magistrate especially was shocked that he had no documentation and had made a promise before God to see the Dursleys brought low for what they had done. Thus it was that the priest found himself moving with a skip in his step all the way back to his church. Once more the Lord had provided what was needed when it was most crucial. He couldn't wait to tell Harry all about it.

At least, that was his plan until he entered the doors and found the little boy standing on three stools stacked together and trying unsuccessfully to dust the stained glass windows from top to bottom. "What are you doing?!"

"Eep!" the boy almost fell off the stools before diving behind the pulpit. When the priest found him again he was curled into a ball and shaking.

"Oh, Harry." Patrick sighed and slowly, so the child could see him, moved to sit down against the wall with plenty of open space between them. "I'm sorry for startling you. Please understand that I was not upset with you, merely worried for your safety. Those stools were not safe at all. What were you doing anyway?"

"T-Those w-windows were pretty." Harry answered slowly. "T-The dust was blurring the light. I liked the light."

John smiled for a moment before a new thought made him frown once more. "Was that the only reason, Harry?"

"N-No." He answered miserably. "I-I need to earn my keep, don't I? My r-relatives tell me that all the time."

With a sigh, Father Patrick shook his head in the negative. "I am not them, little one. You need to know that what the Dursleys put you through was wrong, and that they are going to be under very close scrutiny because of it for a very long time. I actually have it on good authority that the police are now looking for any excuse they can get to arrest and charge them, so the world may be free of them soon. You are a good boy, who has been made to suffer as no little boy should. You do not need to 'earn your keep', you do not need to be afraid any longer, and you will never need to go back to your relatives again."

Slowly, ever so slowly, Harry's arms loosened their hold on his knees and he crawled his way out from his hiding place. "Y-You promise?"

"I promise. In fact, I have some very good news in that regard. I have a plan to set you up in a far off place with a family that will love you unequivocally. How does that sound?"

"It sounds perfect." The boy dreamily replied.

"I'm glad. Say, would you like to pray with me?"

Suddenly bashful, Harry replied, "I don't know how."

"Well that's perfectly alright. I'll show you." So saying, Father Patrick moved to one of the pews, lowered the kneeling rack, and folded his hands. "Do as I do. It is important to thank God for the good things that happen in our lives."

"If you say so, sir." Harry dutifully answered before scurrying over to the adjacent pew to do the same.

Later that night the Priest could be found on the phone with his bishop, discussing their current situation. "He's a good boy, Rodrigo, and he deserves a happy life. I've already got everything covered here and he just needs a couple willing to take him."

There was silence on the other end of the line before a loud gasp of shocked delight could be heard. "Truly the Lord works in mysterious ways, Father Patrick. I have only recently gotten off the phone with the Bishop of New York who had the most interesting tale to tell as he asked for guidance on behalf of one of his own priests."

"Truly?"

"Oh yes, and it fits your problem like a key in a lock. You see, one of his nun novices apparently left the fold to marry a boxer, and recently they began trying to get pregnant, but met with no success. A follow up doctor's visit showed that neither of them are physically able to procreate."

"I am sorry to hear of this, and will of course pray for them."

"As shall we all." Bishop Rodrigo agreed. "The bishop said his priest could not break the seal of confession, but that the girl was apparently having a crisis of faith because of this development. She loves her husband, she wants to be a mother, but her new circumstance has shaken her greatly. Bringing new life to their home, and exactly at a time when a loving home is needed, could be called nothing less than the will of God."

"And this couple is a good one?"

"The bishop swears by them. The husband, Jack, is a boxer as I said, comes from a long Catholic line, and his mother was a personal friend of the last bishop. He has never been arrested and though he isn't devout he has been seen at holiday mass every year since he was a child. The wife, Margaret, is a teacher. As I noted before, she was training to be a nun, and she has used that background to gain a respectable position teaching at their local catholic school. They are not rich, but they do seem quite comfortable. Give me twenty minutes to call them and explain the situation to see if they'd be amenable."

Twenty minutes to the second later the phone rang once more. "Yes, Bishop Rodrigo?"

"They are ecstatic to take the boy. Honestly the amount of 'Praise gods!' and 'Thank the Lords' they gave off had even me growing green in the face. Needless to say, they are on board."

"Excellent. I'll inform the necessary parties and we can figure out how to get young Harry to his new family."

"Do not worry about it, Father Patrick. The church is more than ready to cover the cost of travel."

"Truly?"

"Of course. What kind of men would we be if we did not aid in the salvation of a lost soul?"

Two Weeks Later

Harry nervously followed behind Father Patrick as the white collared man led him through the baggage claim of the JFK International Airport. He'd been told what would happen, that he'd be staying with a young couple that would be his new parents and that the Father would be staying with them for the next week to make sure he was properly settled and adjusted, but he was still a little scared. His only understanding of family had been his relatives, and now he was getting a mom and a dad. He didn't know what to do or how to feel about it.

"It's okay to be nervous, Harry." Patrick smiled down at the young boy. He had been given a small stipend to buy him some new clothes and a few possessions and he had done so. It was remarkable how much a couple pairs of pants and t-shirts had meant to him. But what was more impressive was the reaction when the priest had given him a small stuffed lion. Harry had broken down in tears of joy and had refused to let go of it for the next three days. Even now its head was sticking out of the top of his small backpack to rest on his shoulder, as if the lad needed a constant reminder that it was still there. When John had asked why a simple stuffed animal was so important, he had answered that it was the first time anyone had ever given him anything at all. Not for the first time Patrick found himself lamenting his vow against violence. In his youth he'd have charged into the Dursley's home and beaten them half to death for all that they had done. Instead he had to trust in his friends in Law Enforcement to see justice was meted out as it should be.

"I-I don't… what if they don't like me?" Harry whispered.

"Don't even think it. They're going to love you, I'm sure of it. Just take things as they come and everything will work out. You'll see." As he spoke, the priest beheld a young couple waiting outside the sliding doors to the street with a massive piece of paper held between them that said, "Welcome to the family Harry!" In big painted letters. "Yes, if you look over there I think you'll see that now."

The boy did so and a bashful smile crossed his face. "They really do look excited to meet me."

"Let's go say hello."