Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: I'm using the most basic concepts from Dare Devil, but it's not enough to call this a crossover.

I've directly quoted the standard Hogwarts letter from the first book. I'll be doing this fairly often throughout the story, so here's your fair warning. The story is going to be fairly light on the visual descriptions. Harry "sees" more than a lot of blind people do, but he's still blind, so don't expect a lot of colorful descriptions on his part (except of Snape, and we all know just "how" colorful ^_^).

This story is being highly influenced by Saerry Snape's story, "Not Myself", which I highly recommend to everyone. It's a wonderful story that, like this one, rewrites the entire series. I can only hope that my work even comes close to what she's capable of.

For some reason, our internet access here at home isn't working, so that's why I haven't posted for a while. But I've kept working the whole time, so expect plenty of catch up!

Enjoy!

Ten-year-old Harry Potter knelt on the ground in the gardens, taking great care where he placed the seeds he was drawing from a pouch at his waist. The day was hot, which suited Harry just fine. It was the cold he hated most, as it went through his thin frame straight to his bones. Heat he could handle.

The soil beneath his fingertips was moist and loose. The groundskeeper had already plowed the ground, but he had allowed Harry to do the planting, knowing that, as long as he didn't move anything, the blind child would be able to find all of the seeds and put them in their correct beds. The vegetable garden was a great help to keep the failing orphanage out of the red zone with its finances, helping to keep the children within its walls fed. Few of the young people ever enjoyed the garden, though. Harry was the exception, and the groundskeeper had cultivated his enjoyment. Planting seeds and watering the garden was one thing a blind boy of nearly eleven years age could do with no problems.

Life in the orphanage had been as good to Harry as it was to any other orphan. He was thinner than perhaps was healthy, but so were they all. There were the bullies and such among the children, but Harry was never taken by them. His reflexes were too good. So he didn't have too many scars that he shouldn't.

Harry Potter was different, and not just because of his blindness or the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. He could never remember a time when he could see, though he probably could have when he was a baby. His other senses had magnified themselves to compensate. He had terrific balance because he had learned to listen to what his ears were telling him, to sort out the pictures that they sent, pictures made of sound bouncing off of his environment. He could also make things happen.

It usually only happened when he was angry or frightened. Things would move in the room, sometimes just floating around, but other times flying through the air, all depending on just how angry or scared he was. No one knew why, but no one questioned it. They just learned not to get him mad. Besides, he was well able to defend himself. Blind didn't mean helpless, not by a long shot. He could hear how a person was moving, and he knew his own body well enough to almost visualize the fight as it was happening. It all worked even better if it was raining. Each rain drop made a sound as it hit a surface, and he could almost see during those times. Harry loved it when it rained.

As Harry went to put yet another corn seed into the ground, he touched something he hadn't expected. A slithery snake's tongue ghosted across the fingers of his hand. Harry said, "Hello, there. I didn't hear you, Richard. You doing well in the garden this year?"

Richard was a little garden snake that Harry had befriended three years ago. The snake was getting a bit old for his species, but he would probably last another couple of years. "I'm doing just fine, thanks. Learning to sneak up on you has probably been my saving grace. You know Simpson hates me! But he can't see what you can't hear. Watch yourself, though. One of this year's younglings has heard about you and plans to try and sneak up on you."

Harry grinned at the exasperated tone. "Snakes aren't usually stupid."

"No, just younglings."

"Hey!"

Harry heard the young snake approaching, but both he and Richard said nothing. They continued on with their conversation, and when the little thing went to bite the human he got the surprise of his life. Harry moved his hand out of the way with a speed to match his reptilian companions and snatched him behind the head. He picked the little beast up and hissed, "You'd better think about it a little more next time. Leave bravery to the mammals. Snakes should be cunning, not foolhardy."

There was a grin in Richard's voice as he replied. "That's right, we leave all the foolishness to you, my boy. Now Bernard, I expect you to have a little more sense next time! Just because Harry likes us and won't hurt us doesn't mean you have the right to try and bite him! And the gardener will take his hoe after you!"

Harry sat Bernard down on the ground. He hissed with a pout in his voice. "Sorry."

Harry grinned. "Just don't let it happen again. And Richard's right. Jack will get after you with the hoe. He's not exactly fond of snakes since a viper killed his brother when they were kids."

Harry finished his planting, listening to Richard gossip about his family and the other snakes in the area. The animal was always good for a laugh, and he helped wile away the time. Planting finished, he bid the animal farewell and went to put away his gardening things. Jack didn't mind him coming out to the garden. In fact, he rather liked the boy's obvious enjoyment of the garden and had cultivated his interest.

Harry went inside and took a shower before anyone else was around to steal the hot water, then went to the kitchen to help with dinner. There was only one cook for the orphanage, and he was grateful for any help he could get. Harry always set the tables while the finishing bits of dinner were completed, and with over a hundred kids in the orphanage, the cook was only glad that he could get it done with speed.

Dinner was usually a raucous affair, with at least one minor food fight a week and one major one each season. It was hell to clean up after, but Harry didn't mind as it kept attitudes light around the table. Of course, everyone was at dinner, so he also had to deal with certain people that he would rather have avoided. Charles Smutherman and his little gang of bullies were the bane of the orphanage, always pushing the younger kids around and stealing from them. Still, they knew better than to mess with Harry or any of the children under his protection. Usually they avoided him and his group of youngsters.

Unfortunately, today was not to be such a day. Charlie was bored, and bored and stupid were a bad combination where he was concerned. It meant he was looking for a fight, and he didn't particularly care who with. He walked over to where Harry was sitting and started in on him. "Hey bat-boy!"

Harry sighed in long sufferance. "What do you want, Charlie?"

"Your shades!" He moved to snatch them off the blind youth's head, forgetting Harry's other unusual attributes. Harry grabbed the approaching hand by the wrist and thumb, twisting it around almost to the breaking point before standing up.

A twelve-year-old on the other side of the table named Abel Johnson grinned at the sight. "You should know better by now, Charlie. No one messes with Potter what don't end up regrettin' it!"

Harry shoved the fifteen-year-old away, making him land on his rump. "Grow a brain, Smutherman!"

Mr. Todders, the orphanage proprietor, came into the dining room just then. "What's going on here!?" Todders was a tall, rather portly man with a deep booming voice, which came in handy when dealing with a room full of kids.

Abel spoke first. "Smutherman came after Potter again."

Todders looked over the boy on the ground. There was no real damage, just his pride. "How many times have you been warned, Charlie? I think you're done with dinner if you can start accosting the other kids. Get yourself to your dorm. Now!"

Harry made sure not to grin, knowing that would only make the fool vengeful. But once he heard the door slam, he allowed the expression to cross his face. He finished his dinner quietly, not talking to anyone while he ate, which was what everyone expected.

When he got back to the younger boys' dorm, he flopped down on his bed. Tomorrow was the day they were bringing in all the new kids from the court. Harry would have to make sure that any of the ones over the age of five knew the ropes around the dorm, that they knew where they could and couldn't go, what their chores would be, and who to avoid in the orphanage. He was the strongest boy in the younger dorms, and he took it upon himself to make sure that the new kids were as comfortable as possible in a very uncomfortable place in their lives.

Harry had grown up in the orphanage. It was the only home he had ever known, so it didn't seem strange to him. But he knew that this wasn't the case for most kids. Most kids had loving homes, with at least one parent who loved them more than anything. Harry had never had that in his memory. Oh he sometimes remembered a soft, feminine voice, one full of love and laughter, but half the time he couldn't be sure he wasn't making it up. After all, he'd once dreamed of a flying motorcycle, too. He didn't even have a name for his parents. He'd been abandoned on the doorstep of the orphanage on the first night of November, totally blind and screaming with hunger, with a note that said his parents died in a car crash. He had nothing, and his only constant friends were the snakes in the garden. Sometimes, it was all Harry could do not to cry himself to sleep. But that was life.

Harry was very surprised when, three mornings later a large bird landed in the garden and hopped over to him. He couldn't tell what kind of bird it was, but it had very soft feathers. Then it hooted at him, proving to be an owl. "Hello. What can I do for you?" The bird hooted again, then shifted its weight to one foot, sticking the other out toward Harry. He felt down the leg until he found something that was tied to it, some kind of paper. "That what you want, this thing off your leg? I should be able to do that." Harry felt around the knot of string that was holding the paper on, wondering how it had gotten there.

Once it was off, he expected the bird to fly away, but it just sat there. So Harry called out, "Jack!"

Jack, the gardener came over. "What you got there, Harry?"

"Not sure. But it was tied to this bird's leg and now he won't leave." He handed it up to the man. "What is it?"

Jack started. "Why, it's a letter! And it's addressed to you! 'Mr. Harry Potter, The garden in the back, Mung Street Orphanage, London.' Do you want me to open and read it for you?"

"Someone's written ME a letter? 'Course I want you to read it!"

So Jack broke the old fashioned wax seal that was holding the letter closed and then unfolded the top sheet. It was parchment, and written in a surprising emerald ink. "Well, here goes." He cleared his throat and then began to read.

Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress

Jack said, "Well, that's weird."

"Yeah. How did they know where I was, for one?"

"Don't know, kid. You plannin' to answer? I don't know as Todders will let you go."

"Yeah. I think I'll answer it anyway. I'll ask them to send some more information. This is going to be strange." He turned to the owl. "You hold on just a moment and I'll go get some writing materials." Harry didn't see it, of course, but the owl nodded in response. Jack just stared in amazement. That kid sure has a way with animals.

Harry was back just a few moments later with a pad and pen. He handed them to Jack. "You mind writing this down for me?"

"Sure kid."

Just a few minutes later, and they had tied Harry's response to the owl's leg and it was on its way to Hogwarts School or Witchcraft and Wizardry. Wherever that might be.

Professor McGonagall sorted through the day's mail, knowing that several of the letters in the pile would be responses to First Year acceptance letters. One in particular caught her attention, as it was written on yellow notebook paper. Muggleborn, then. She began to read, and got the shock of her life. She quickly went to the floo and grabbed a handful of powder. "Albus Dumbledore's office!" Then she threw the powder and disappeared in a flash of green flame.

She stepped into Dumbledore's office, still clutching the response letter. "Albus! You will never believe who just sent me a response letter. Harry Potter!"

Dumbledore's eyebrows flew into his hairline. "What?!"

McGonagall held up the letter. "It's him, Albus! How could it be him? The house was burned to the ground! There were no survivors!"

"Please let me read the letter, Minerva." So she handed the yellow paper over to him, then sat down, wringing her hands. How could they have made a mistake like this?

The letter read:

To whom it may concern,

I thank you for your acceptance, but I'm afraid I need more information. I have lived at this orphanage since before I can remember, and in that time, there has never been any indication that a single soul outside of it knew that I existed. Therefore, I would ask that you tell me first, how you got my name, and second, what you may know about me. In regards to attending your school, I would love nothing more, but you must understand that I am an orphan. I own nothing but my cane, my type writers and my shades. I could hardly afford to attend what is probably a very prestigious school, or to buy my school supplies. I am sure that you understand my concerns. If you have any way around them, I would love to attend. Please notify me of your decision at your earliest convenience. I am blind, so please send your response in two copies, one English and one Braille.

Thank you. Sincerely,

Harry Potter

"How could this have happened, Albus? How could we have missed Harry Potter surviving?" The woman was frantic. This was horrible! Their blunder had made it so that the boy had spent the last ten years in an orphanage!

"I don't know, Minerva, but please calm yourself. I will go myself to question Mr. Potter. I'll take the key to his personal vault with me. Since the vaults are keyed to magical signatures rather than physical ones, the declaration of his death will not have affected it, nor his family vaults. He still won't be able to access those funds until he turns seventeen, but he will at least know that they are there. I will tell him what I can. This changes everything, Minerva. I trust you know that."

McGonagall nodded sadly, sighing. "Yes, I do. You're not going to tell him everything, are you?"

"Of course not. He's only ten years old. I will not burden a child with all of that." He shook his head. No, that wouldn't be right at all. Better that he be allowed to have what proper childhood they could give him here at Hogwarts. So much had already been stolen from him. Dumbledore would not add to the tally if at all possible. "I'll write his response myself, and I'll arrange a meeting with him and his guardian as soon as possible."

This time, the owl flew into the dining room through an open window, and it did so during breakfast on the morning of July 24th. Squeals sounded throughout the hall as the bird flew down the table to where Harry was sitting, no one being used to huge birds flying around their heads. It dropped it's burden directly in front of him, missing his porridge by inches. The only reason Harry had a clue what was going on was that he heard the owl hooting as it flew back out the window. Harry fumbled with the letter, finally getting it turned around to where the address could be read. He was startled by the fact that it was also written in Braille. He ran his hands over the tiny dots of wax that were splotched in an orderly fashion across the parchment. Mr. Harry Potter, The dining room table, Mung Street Orphanage, London

Harry grinned and flipped the parchment envelope over to break the wax seal. He pulled the letter out and made sure that he had the Braille copy on top, which he began to read immediately.

Dear Mr. Potter,

I am aware that we have a great deal to explain to you, as well as questions that only you may have the answers to. However, these are things that I thinks should be best spoken of in person. Therefore, I will be coming to visit you in person in one week's time. Please rest assured that no matter the state of your personal finance, I personally want you to attend our school to learn your craft. You need not fear on that account. You will have everything you need, though for reasons I will explain to you at length later on, I doubt it will be a problem.

As you requested, an English copy of this letter has been included for your guardian. I shall arrive at precisely ten on the morning of the thirty-first.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Harry's smile didn't dissipate at all. He grabbed his cane and headed for where Todders was sitting with his breakfast. "Mr. Todders. Half of this letter is for you."

"Half? Letter?"

"Yes, from the Headmaster of the school I was telling you about. I showed you the letter, remember?"

"Oh, yes. Why half?"

"Because it's written in Braille."

"Very well, let me see." Harry handed him the page of the letter that was smooth. Todders read over the letter quickly. "Then we can be expecting company? I guess we should get this place cleaned up. What a coincidence. He's coming on your birthday!"

Counting his days, Harry realized that Todders was right. "So he will." For the first time in his life, Harry was looking forward to that day. Perhaps he was finally going to get some of the answers he had always instinctively craved about who he was. It was going to be the best birthday ever!

The entire week was spent cleaning, as the one thing Todders detested over everything else was that the place appear shabby in front of visitors. It was a major reason that Harry had made sure that the guardian of the orphanage would know about the impending visit. It forced everyone to do the chores they had been assigned, such as laundry. Todders was usually far too lenient about such matters, being very lazy about the care of the children, but he had no intention of loosing his plush job because he was unable to maintain discipline and get the kids to take care of the mundane chores. He was supposed to have hired several new employees to help with the facility, but he was pocketing their salaries, maintaining only Jack and the cook. He had to make sure it looked like five men worked there rather than two, so every kid in the place was put to cleaning and scrubbing. Several of the older ones knew that it was because of Harry's visitor, but most didn't care. Only Smutherman tried to make an issue of it, but Harry put him on his rump again.

The reason Harry was glad of it was that, for once, all his clothes were clean, as were his bed linens and the rugs out in the hallway. He'd always made sure that the dishes and the dining room were clean, along with the cook, because neither of them could stand the though of germs mixing with the food, but they could only do so much. The bathrooms were spotless for the first time in his life, and he couldn't help but go around with a huge grin on his face.

Of course, things were not destined to go so smoothly. At about six thirty on the morning of the thirty-first, Harry was rudely awakened by Smutherman trying to sneak into the younger kids' dorm. Harry lay still, listening to see what the older boy was after. The oaf made his way to one of the six-year-olds' beds, little Rudy Henderson. There was a squeak, the muffled cry of a frightened child. Harry didn't need to hear anything else. He sat up stealthily and grasped his cane where it leaned up against the wall in its customary place, then got off the bed, avoiding the creaky place in the mattress. Harry knew where every creak in the floorboards. He knew where every object that littered the floor was because he'd heard them when they fell. Even socks and other items of clothing. There was nothing to trip him up as he made his way to the big oaf who was busily threatening Rudy to get him to do his chores the next day.

Harry tapped his cane on Smutherman's shoulder. "Leave him alone, Charlie." The fifteen-year-old turned around quickly. Harry hadn't bothered to put his shades on, and he found himself looking into eyes like a nightmare. When he was an infant they had been a normal-but-brilliant emerald green. Now they were a dead looking gray, and it wasn't just the irises, but the entire cornea and lens. The eyes saw nothing. But they could still move. And with Harry's living senses focused on Smutherman, they seemed to stare straight into his soul.

Charlie Smutherman had only ever looked Harry Potter in the eyes once before. It gave him the willies then and it did now. It was more than enough to get him to leave. As he left, Harry pulled the shades out of his pocket where he'd put them on getting out of the bed and put them on so he wouldn't frighten the younger boy.

Rudy had seen, however. "What happened?"

Knowing that the child spoke of his blindness and the lightning bolt scar on the bridge of his nose, he said, "I'm not really sure. The man who's coming today might have that answer. But I've been blind for as long as I can remember."

Rudy was silent for a moment. "You're leaving, aren't you."

Harry nodded slowly. "Yes. If I can wrangle it." He stopped, thinking about all the kids who would be unprotected from the bullies when he was gone. There's got to be something I can do. "Do you have a toy that you favor?"

The little boy took Harry's hand and placed his stuffed bear into it. Harry concentrated on the bear, petting the fur of the beloved toy. Protect him from harm. Use fear, never pain. Never let yourself be seen by anyone over the age of seventeen. Protect him and the other small ones from the bullies until we meet again and I can take over the task. Responding to Harry's innate magic, the bear briefly changed its appearance to that of a living adult animal. The beast nuzzled the young boy, then touched its snout to Harry's hand and reverted back to its stuffed self. "He'll protect you 'till I can again."

"Wow!" Rudy jumped up and hugged Harry. "Thank you so much!" Harry smiled. He was tired now, having put a lot of energy into the bear, but it would be worth it if the toy could do the job.

Three hours later, precisely on the stroke of ten, the chime on the orphanage's front door rang out. Todders was ready and opened it to reveal an elderly gentleman wearing a dusky purple business suit with a grayish blue bowler and shiny white shoes. His hair and beard were long and white, both flowing down to peter out at about waist level. He had kind, blue eyes with a twinkle of mischief in them that seemed to light the front hall way more brightly than the pitiful light bulb that hung there. "I'm here to speak with Mr. Harry Potter, if you please?"

Todders shook himself out of staring at the man's strange appearance and nodded. "Yes, of course. You'll be Albus Dumbledore, then?" The old man nodded. "I'm Barry Todders, the guardian of this facility. Harry is waiting for you in the dining room. All the other children are doing their morning chores, so you've picked the perfect time to come. You can be alone with Harry."

Harry was seated in the dining room with the few things that belonged to him. He truly hoped that Dumbledore intended to take him away from the orphanage, and in that hope he had packed everything. He had three sets of clothes, his Braille writer, his type writer and his cane. The shades were, of course, perched on his nose. It was all he had in the world. He heard approaching footsteps; two men, one of which was Todders, whose shoes squeaked. The other one was definitely wearing good leather shoes. There was a swishing of tweed fabric, but the tap of a cane or umbrella was missing. Barely discernable was the whisper of long hair, though Harry couldn't tell just how long. And there was something else, as well. A sense of strength, of power, radiated from him. It was a feeling that Harry recognized from himself, but it was so much stronger than that! Harry guessed that this must be what magic felt like.

Harry stood and held out his hand, knowing that his aim would be off this first time as he didn't know the man's height yet. Todders said, "Here he is. Harry, this is Albus Dumbledore. Mr. Dumbledore, this is Harry Potter."

The man finally spoke, his voice rolling around like water over gravel. "Hello, Mr. Potter. It is good to see you. Thank you for introducing us, Mr. Todders. Harry would you prefer that your guardian remain for our conversation or would you like some privacy?" There was mischief in the voice, and Todders sputtered a bit.

Harry grinned. "Privacy, if you wouldn't mind." Todders huffed off. Once he was out of earshot, Harry said, "It's times like these I really wish I could see. The look on his face was likely priceless!"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Right you are, Harry. Now, I imagine you have a great many questions. But first I must ask you what you already know. How did you come to be in this facility?"

"The night of November 1, 1981, I was found on the doorstep here. There was only a note, stating my name and birthday and that my parents had died in a car crash and I had no other living relatives."

The man frowned as he spoke. "I see. Well allow me to set the record straight. Your parents were murdered, Harry, by a man called Voldemort, on Halloween night, 1981. This man was a dark wizard, and he was waging a war against the rest of the wizarding world. He killed anyone who refused to join him, and your parents refused three times. He tried to kill you, as well, but for some reason, his spell didn't kill you. Instead it blinded you and was then reflected back at him. No one is sure why it didn't work right. But it put an end to a twenty-year-long war, at the horrible cost of your sight. You were sent to live with your uncle and aunt, Vernon and Petunia Dursley. From there we don't know what really happened. But I suppose it's good that you were brought here. Only one year later, their house was destroyed in a gas main explosion. They and their son were all killed in the fire, and it was thought that you were as well. That's why no one has been around, Harry. We all thought you were dead."

Harry was reeling. His parents had been wizards! And they had been murdered by another wizard! They hadn't died in a car crash at all. And he had been blinded by the same man. Anger welled up in him. Dumbledore's voice cut through it. "Harry, control, please." It was then that he realized that things were starting to fly around the room.

Abashed, Harry took control of his power and lowered the things gently to the table where they had come off of. "Sorry."

There was a smile in Dumbledore's voice. "That's quite all right, Harry. We'll be able to teach you much better control of that so it doesn't get away from you."

"So how did I get that letter if everyone thought I was dead?"

"Well that's actually quite simple, Harry. The school itself sends out those letters to any individual it deems worthy and is of the correct age. Minerva signs them, but with so many of them going out she rarely looks at the names that are on them. Your response was what tipped us off."

"The school is alive!?"

"Very nearly. It's over a thousand years old, and over the centuries it's been so saturated with magic that it has developed an awareness of itself and its surroundings." Dumbledore sighed. "Now, since you have no living relatives, I have decided to have you made a ward of the school. That way you will never have to worry about a place to live or about returning to this place. You'll live on the grounds with the gamekeeper, Mr. Rubeus Hagrid. But there's a lot of paperwork to be gone through before that time. Hagrid will take you today to Diagon Alley to get your school supplies, and then you'll come back here until September 1. Hagrid will have your tickets to the Hogwarts Express. It's a train at King's Cross Station. It will take you to Hogwarts." The Headmaster cleared his throat. "I'll just get the ball rolling on your adoption with Mr. Todders. Hagrid is waiting outside. Don't worry about these things here. I'll have them put back where you sleep. Just remember to take them with you when you leave in September."

"Thank you, Headmaster!" On impulse, Harry reached up to touch Dumbledore's face, wanting a clear picture to put with the voice. The old man smiled, holding still for the minute examination. The boy's hand swept from brow to chin, and then up the left side, including the ear, and down the right. It took about five minutes for him to trace every little crease and wrinkle. "Thank you. Not many people let me do that."

"My pleasure, Harry. My pleasure."