Disclaimer: I tried not to write this, really I did, but the idea was too strong for me. I admit it, I'm weak, I'm powerless before my inspiration.
The Kansas City Shuffle
The crowd roared in approval when Harry and Cedric returned, the Hufflepuffs cheering loudest of all until they realized the state of their house's champion. Cedric's eyes were fixed on an invisible point a thousand yards to his front, his jaw continuously working up and down while his fists clenched and unclenched.
"Damn you, Potter!" Snape screamed in pain and rage. The man fell to the ground, writhing in pain.
"ARRRRRRGGGG!" another pain filled scream echoed through the stadium as Moody collapsed.
The crowd surged back to permit the healers access to the two fallen men.
"Dead," Madam Pomfrey announced after a couple diagnostic charms. "Both drained of magic and Moody's not Moody."
"Yes," Dumbledore agreed. "I knew that all along. Amelia, how wonderful to see you again."
"What do you mean you knew that all along?" Madame Bones demanded.
"Would you mind sending a couple Aurors to the defense professor's quarters? I believe they'll find my old friend Alastair imprisoned in his trunk."
"What do you mean you knew that all along?!" Bones growled.
"Chop chop," Dumbledore replied. "That's a good girl. Speed is of the essence as I dare say that more time in the trunk won't do my old friend any good."
"Watts, Perkins!" Amelia ordered.
"Right away, boss," the two Aurors hastened to comply.
"Dumbledore! What do you mean you knew that all along?!" Bones bellowed.
"Were the words not clear enough?" Albus asked in confusion. "I mean what I said. Not more, not less. Do try to keep up, Amelia. While slowness of mind is not much of a hinderance for a police officer, I dare say you'll find it quite a hinderance when you are Minister of Magic."
"When I am Minister of Magic?" Amelia repeated.
"Perhaps it's your hearing rather than your mind," Albus mused to himself. He hit himself with a charm to increase the volume of his voice. "Now that Voldemort is gone forever, it is no longer beneficial to have a corrupt, incompetent, sniveling worm as our Minister of Magic! In short, Fudge is out and you are in!"
"Me? Minister of Magic?" Amelia said dumbly.
"Yes, you! Minister of Magic!" Dumbledore agreed, happy the woman was finally on track. "Poppy, please do something about Madame Bones' hearing problem when you get a chance."
Dumbledore made his way through the crowd to the two winners of the Triwizard Tournament. "Ah, Harry, my boy. Do you mind informing us what happened?" He cast a spell to ensure that all present would hear the boy.
"The final task was a trap, Voldemort got resurrected, I killed him and all the Death Eaters, Cedric's been acting odd."
"Mr. Diggory is used to a more sedate life than you are, Harry. It's not unexpected for him to have to go through an adjustment period. Out of curiosity, exactly why wasn't he immediately murdered by Death Eaters?"
"They were gonna, but Voldemort decided that he'd be more useful as a hostage to force his father to do stuff," Harry answered.
Dumbledore nodded. "Congratulations on reaching the end of your journey early, Harry. While not without sacrifices such as our own Professor of Potions, you have given the world a victory and a chance for a lasting peace."
"Snape's dead?" Harry asked, perking up. He hadn't considered the idea that Death Eaters outside the cemetery would be among the casualties.
"Don't worry about Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore said, a twinkle in his eye. "He died the way he always wanted to."
"Is that why Griffindor is at minus five billion points?" having noticed the total on the point counter in the quidditch field going far into the red shortly after he'd returned to the castle.
"It is," Dumbledore agreed. "With his last bit of strength, he put Gryffindor so far into the negative that there is no chance it will win this year's house cup."
"Are we still doing that this year?" Harry asked. "I thought it got canceled because of the tournament."
"Severus insisted and I didn't feel comfortable saying no since his horrible death was a vital part of my plan to defeat Voldemort," Dumbledore explained. "A plan that's no longer necessary due to your actions today, my boy, which is wonderful since the plan also called for the death of nearly every non-pureblood in Britain."
"What?" Hermione squeaked. The girl had been one of the first to push her way through the crowd to her best friend's side. "How could you?"
"I'm afraid that history has show that the best way to defeat a dark lord is via a needlessly overcompensated morally dubious plan with plenty of involuntary sacrifices for the greater good," Dumbledore explained. "That's also the main reason I've spent years ensuring the Ministry was as corrupt as possible and why I did everything I could to help Fudge keep office." The old man laughed. "None of which is necessary now due to the fact that Harry managed to resolve things early."
"Is that also why you let educational standards at Hogwarts drop or why you and every other adult was just short of completely useless every time there was something happening at Hogwarts?" Harry asked.
"It is, my boy," Dumbledore agreed happily. "I was going to drop the standards even further next year to force you to begin an intensive course in self study to gain proficiency in Defense against the Dark Arts. Part two of my plan involved manipulating Ms. Granger to have her set up a study group taught by you which in turn would give you a loyal group of people to watch your back for a few months or so." The old man laughed. "I'll send you the write up of my plan if you like."
"Thank you, sir."
"But . . . but that doesn't make any sense," Hermione protested.
"Nor does magic, Ms. Granger," Dumbledore replied. "Magic is the opposite of logic which is why illogical plans are the most effective sort when magic is involved. Now, if you two will excuse me I have a Minister to unseat, a Ministry to clean up, and a school to rebuild. I'll have more time to answer questions after that's all wrapped up so give me a day or two and I shall place myself at your disposal."
"Alright, sir," Harry agreed. "Do I still have to spend summer with the Dursleys?"
"Heavens no and thank you for reminding me of them, Harry. I'll add Sirius' exoneration and generous compensation and the imprisonment of your relatives to my to do list." Dumbledore pulled a long piece of parchment out of his robes and an even longer peacock quill out from behind his ear and added the two items. "Please do not hesitate to contact me if any other tasks come to mind."
"I won't, sir."
"But be quick about it," Dumbledore added. "I'm planning to resign all my posts at the end of the school year so reminding me after that won't do nearly as much good."
"Understood, sir. Congratulations on your retirement."
"Oh, I'm not retiring, Harry. Merely moving on to a new adventure, one that's been delayed for far too long."
True to the old man's words, both the government and school were completely transformed by the time they returned to Hogwarts for their fifth year. Hermione bloomed under the new educational standards, the smile on her face could have turned the darkest night to day. Ron, surprisingly, also did better under the new standards. Apparently all it took was the threat to suspend him and send him home to spend all his time with his mother to motivate the boy. Draco and several of his compatriots had a somewhat rockier transition due to the fact that they were suddenly without protection and were expected to obey all the school rules for the first time since they'd started at Hogwarts. As for Harry?
One year later, the wizarding world's greatest living hero sighed as he got off the train to meet his godfather. It had been the most boring year of his life and he was having a hard time adjusting to the lack of threats to his life. Sure it had been great at first, then his paranoia had ramped up and he was spending almost as much time in the library as Hermione, something that had pleased the girl to no end. The rest of his time was spent training and exercising so he'd be ready when the shoe dropped.
"Harry!" Sirius cheered loudly. "How was Hogwarts?"
"Boring," Harry admitted. "Very very boring."
"Yeah, school's like that," Sirius agreed. "You know what I did to pass the time?"
"Would get me suspended," Harry replied. "The professors actually enforce the rules now."
"What? Really?" Sirius exclaimed in disbelief. "Next you're going to say they aren't completely useless."
"Not anymore," Harry agreed. "It's funny, last year I'd have told you that all I wanted was a nice quiet school year. Now? Life just feels sort of bland without all the murder attempts. What does that say about me?"
"It says that you're awesome," Sirius replied. "I know just the thing."
"What?"
"We're going to pack so much excitement into this summer that you'll need another boring school year to recover," Sirius stated. "Now, I don't know how much you know about the muggle world, but I've been spending a lot of time in it and I came across a bunch of absolutely delightful activities."
"Like what?"
"I was thinking we'd try skydiving first," Sirius replied. "It'll be great. You go up in a flying machine and then you jump out with only a bedsheet to keep you from suffering the consequences."
"That does sound like fun," Harry agreed, perking up a bit. "Thanks, Sirius."
IIIIIIIIII
Hermione, her parents noted, was glowing when she got home from school that summer. They'd never seen their little girl so happy before.
"Something good happen at school, sweetie?" her mother asked cautiously.
"Something great, mum," Hermione chirped.
"Did your friend Harry finally ask you to be his girlfriend?"
"What? No." She shot her mother an odd look. "They improved educational standards."
"Oh. That's nice, sweetie."
"Why would you think that Harry would ask me out?"
"He's the only boy you've ever showed any interest in, sweetie," her mother explained. "We just sort of assumed that there was something there."
"Oh." Hermione considered the matter. "Let me do a bit of research and I'll get back to you on that."
"Research?" her mother asked weakly.
"It's never good to go rushing into things and it's even worse to neglect doing research before coming to a conclusion," Hermione stated. "We'll go to the bookstore tomorrow."
"If you like, sweetie," her mother agreed. "Would you like to go out for a curry? You said that school of yours never serves it."
"That sounds great, mum," Hermione agreed happily. Curry and a new research project, her summer was getting off to a great start!
Hermione was up early the next morning and ensured that her parents were up shortly after. Time was burning and there was research to be done. They arrived at the local bookstore shortly after it opened and Hermione was soon lost in the stacks on her hunt for books.
"I blame your side of the family for this," Hermione's mother whispered to her father.
"Really, what a coincidence," he whispered back. "I blame yours."
"How could you blame my side?"
"There isn't any of this sort of thing on my side," he replied.
"None on mine either," she rebutted.
"You have a professional degree in dentistry," he snorted. "I'd say that anyone studious enough to get a degree in dentistry is more than studious enough to produce our little girl."
"You've got a degree in dentistry too," she hissed.
"Yeah, but . . ."
"Yes?"
"Give me a minute to think of something," he replied.
Hermione bounced up to the register. "I'm back. I was only able to find a couple dozen books on the subject, we'll have to go into London later this week to get more."
"We'll discuss it, sweetie," her mother stated.
Hermione waited patiently by the shop's newsstand as they rang up her purchases, passing the time by reading the headlines. The girl froze in shock at the picture on one of them. It couldn't be. She picked up the paper, it was!
"Do you know anything about this, daddy?" Hermione asked, thrusting the paper at him.
"About what, sweetie?"
"This!" Hermione's finger jabbed the picture. "Do you know anything about this?"
"Just that he's one of the many costumed heroes in the colonies, sweetie," her father replied.
"This newspaper too!" Hermione tossed it on the pile of books by the register as she darted back into the stacks. "I'll be right back!"
IIIIIIIIII
Harry breast pocket vibrated and calmly pulled his communications mirror to see who was calling. Hermione, he wondered what she wanted? He flipped it open.
"Yes?"
"Harry? I can't hear you! All I can hear is wind!"
"Hang on!" He pulled the ripcord, deploying his chute. "How bout now?"
"Much better," Hermione's voice replied. "Where are you now?"
"About eight thousand feet above Ipswitch."
"Oh . . . I don't suppose you're near a newsstand?"
"Not at the moment, no," he agreed.
"Can you open your mirror so we can see each other? I want to show you something." Harry flipped open the compact to see his friend's smiling face. "Hello, Hermione."
"Hello, Harry," she replied brightly. The image spun. "Can you see this?"
"See what?"
"The cover of a newspaper."
Harry squinted at the photo. It appeared to be a masked man in a brown costume with a familiar waist length white beard. Perched on his shoulder was a familiar looking phoenix, also wearing a mask. "Is that . . . Dumbledore?" he asked cautiously.
"You think so too?" The image spun back to Hermione's face. "I was sure but I didn't want to say anything until you confirmed it."
"Why is a picture of Dumbledore in a costume on the front page of the newspaper?"
"It says he's a super hero named the Masked Woodcock and he's on the front page because he saved the Governor General of Canada from the Maple Syrup Mafia."
"The what?"
"It's the name of a gang," Hermione explained. "When Dumbledore said he was going on to another adventure, I assumed he was using that as a euphemism for death."
"So did I," Harry admitted.
"But it looks like he moved to Canada to become a costumed crime fighter," Hermione continued.
"Looks like," Harry agreed.
"What's going on?"
"Give me a couple days and I'll try to have an answer for you," Harry promised.
"Thanks, Harry."
IIIIIIIIII
The Masked Woodcock crept silently through the city, his city, a city that never slept. His informants had informed him that there was going to be a bank robbery, the information was likely untrue but- a smile bloomed on the hero's face as he saw a white windowless van come to a stop in front of the target bank and several masked individuals pile out of it. Seemed his informant had been correct after all.
"You deal with the driver," he told his partner. "I'll deal with the inside men. Join me as soon as you're able."
"Cluck," his partner agreed.
The Masked Woodcock disappeared with a pop and reappeared in front of the surprised robbers.
"Watch out, guys, it's the Masked Woodcock!" the lead bank robber screamed.
"Get 'im!" one of the other bank robbers screamed back.
The Masked Woodcock felled the lead bank robber with a magically enhanced punch to the jaw, a giant cartoonish 'pow' appeared in midair the second fist met flesh.
The distant sound of shattered glass informed the hero that his partner had disabled both the getaway driver and the van. "Surrender or prepare to face my wrath, fiends."
"There's three of us and one of you, freak," one of the bank robbers sneered.
"Three of you and two of us," the Masked Woodcock corrected. "My partner, the Masked Firecock, is behind you."
The robbers spun and found the Masked Firecock rapidly flying towards them. The jig was up, they quickly surrendered. The police were on scene within minutes.
"It's a good thing you happened to be passing by, Masked Woodcock," the patrol sergeant stated as the robbers were placed under arrest. "How do you do it?"
"It's a numbers game, sergeant," the Masked Woodcock replied. "My partner and I stake out ten or twenty places without incident for every crime we stop. I'm just glad we were able to catch them before anyone could get hurt."
"So are we, Masked Woodcock," the sergeant agreed. "Incidentally, did the Masked Firecock have to be that rough when he took down the driver? Poor bastard's going to have to have his jaw wired shut."
"Cluck," the Masked Firecock replied.
"Yes, I suppose that you didn't have much choice," the sergeant agreed. "No hard feelings, Firecock? You know I gotta ask these things."
"Cluck."
The sergeant laughed. "What a kidder."
"Was that all you needed, sergeant?" the Masked Woodcock asked.
"It is, thank you Masked Woodcock. Thank you Masked Firecock."
"In the name of justice, away!" the Masked Woodcock said grandly. The Masked Firecock landed on his shoulder and both disappeared in the suddenly appearing and then disappearing flame of justice.
The two heroes reappeared in their secret lair and removed their masks to reveal their secret identities; Albus Dumbledore and his phoenix familiar Fawkes.
"Cluck," Fawkes announced.
"Yes, I agree," Dumbledore agreed. "That did go rather well."
"Preck!" Hedwig announced her presence. The heroic duo turned to find a familiar post owl.
"A letter from Harry?" Albus said in delight. "What an unexpected surprise." The old man carefully opened the envelope and read the letter.
"Cluck?"
"Miss Granger saw our picture in the paper and was hoping we could satisfy her curiosity," Albus replied. "His own too, I'd wager."
"Cluck."
"Right you are, old friend, right you are."
IIIIIIIIII
Albus was waiting at the international portkey terminal when Harry arrived. The boy had grown considerably in the year since he'd left his post as Headmaster.
"Ah, Harry," Albus greeted his protege. "So very like you to travel all this way just to satisfy Miss Granger's curiosity. It speaks well of you."
"And my own," Harry admitted. "Sir, why-"
"Wait until we're some place more private," Dumbledore interrupted. "One never knows if someone is listening." He offered the boy a small bird figurine. "Simply say go and the portkey will take you to my current quarters."
"Go." He disappeared, Albus followed.
The portkey transported Harry to a richly furnished penthouse overlooking the city.
"Welcome to the nest," Dumbledore said grandly. "My current home and lair."
"Lair?"
"As Miss Granger has no doubt surmised, my next great adventure was to become a costumed hero," Albus stated. "In Britain, I was the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Dignified, a bit nutty, and seen as a distant figure perched on top of an ivory tower. Here though, here I am the city's greatest protector, the Masked Woodcock!" He swept his arm, drawing attention to the penthouse's spectacular view.
"You ran away from your responsibilities to become a caped crusader?"
"It was that or the circus," Dumbledore agreed. "The choice was easy after I found out how intolerable the quarters were while on the road."
"That bad?"
"Not nearly to the level you experienced with the Dursley family, but also not nearly to the level one would consider satisfactory."
"Alright," Harry agreed. "Setting that aside. Why a super hero? And how? Doesn't the Statute of Secrecy say that it's not permitted?"
"Tell me, Harry. If given the chance, would you put on a silly costume and fight crime?"
"In a heartbeat," Harry admitted.
"That answers your first question. As to the second? The statute is a bit more flexible on this side of the pond," Albus explained. "Dress in a costume, wear a mask, and one can almost break it with impunity."
"Oh."
"I trust that answers your questions?"
"Only the first two."
"I see. Proceed."
"Why did you choose the name the Masked Woodcock?"
"Cluck?"
"And the Masked Firecock?" Harry asked. "Wouldn't Phoenix be better for Fawks?"
"Fawks wouldn't exactly be hiding his identity if he called himself phoenix, Harry," Dumbledore chuckled. "People would instantly assume that the only phoenix in town was the masked hero known only as the Phoenix."
Fawks clucked in agreement.
"Plus there's the fact that the Phoenix was already taken," Albus added. "Most of the animal names were. I was lucky to get Woodcock. There's one chap that has to call himself Lord Smoked Meats and Fishes. How can one fight crime with a name like Lord Smoked Meats and Fishes? I put it to you, Harry, how?"
"Oh."
"Aside from that, the Woodcock is a noble bird. Woodcocks are known to undergo rapid speciation in island chains and the pin feathers are often used by artists as brushes," Albus said passionately. "Truly a noble bird, Fawkes and I are fortunate to have the privilege of bearing its name."
"Cluck," Fawkes agreed.
"Alright," Harry surrendered. "You've convinced me, woodcocks are amazing birds and the world is enriched by their presence."
"Naturally." One could cut the smug coming off the old man and the phoenix with a knife.
"I have just one more question: You said you might have a summer job for me, Professor?"
"Albus, Harry," the old man chided. "But yes. I've recently learned that it's considered common and appropriate to take young children into combat with dangerous criminals to fight at one's side. I thought you might wish to join in."
"How is this different from my years at Hogwarts while you were the Headmaster?"
"Well, the amount of combat will be much higher for one," Dumbledore replied. "For two, I'll be fighting by your side rather than dispensing the occasional clue or cryptic bit of advice."
Harry considered the offer, life had been growing a bit boring without the constant threats to his life and this seemed like the perfect solution. "Sure, why not. I'm in."
"Excellent. Our first target shall be the Purple Parrot gang led by the notorious Pirate Pete."
"You're kidding."
"I assure you that I am not, Harry."
"Are they dressed in costumes as stupid as I hope they are?"
"Stupider, Harry, far far stupider."
"Let's get started," Harry said eagerly.
"I'm afraid it isn't quite that simple, my boy. First we need permission from your guardian."
"Sirius should be here tomorrow, he'll agree then."
"I have no doubt. Second we'll need to get you to an appropriate level of fitness."
"How long will that take?"
"Two days with the right potions," Dumbledore replied. "Third, we shall need to get you some combat training. The style on this side of the pond favors hand to hand combat rather than spells."
"I presume you have a magical way to get that accomplished quickly"
"You presume correctly. It's a simple matter of putting the pensive in montage mode. You should be finished with that around the same time you're finished with the potions."
"Great!"
"And finally, you shall need a super hero name."
"Of course," Harry agreed. "Any suggestions?"
"Well you could call yourself Lightningcock or Boltcock if you want to keep to the theme Fawks and I have been using."
"I do not," Harry stated instantly.
"Then you'll have to go through the big book of hero names," Dumbledore stated. "Good luck, my boy."
"Isn't there someone I can hire to do this for me?"
"Well . . . yes," Albus admitted. "But I'm told that forcing one's sidekick to go through the book is considered traditional."
"That's probably because most sidekicks are idiots," Harry pointed out. "Do you want to be traditional or do you want to have a sidekick that isn't an idiot?"
"Excellent point, my boy, excellent point." Albus stroked his beard. "I believe the Great Tit is available."
"I'll put that on the backup list," Harry promised.
"Better not dally, my boy, I would be shocked if Sirius doesn't snap that one up if given the chance."
"True," Harry agreed. "I guess it'd be better to let him have it then. He is my godfather after all."
"Also true," Albus laughed. "Forgive me, Harry. One year and I forgot what a generous soul you are."
To no one's surprise, Sirius did in fact snap up the name 'the Great Tit' as soon as he heard that it was available. Harry had a more difficult time due to the fact that he had standards, but in the end he was able to find one with the help of a paid service.
"Captain Bolt?" Dumbledore asked.
"Rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?" Harry asked proudly.
"It does, my boy, it really does," Albus agreed. "Start studying, I'll schedule you for the boater's exam."
"Why do I need to take the boater's exam?"
"Harry, we are heroes, living examples of all that's good and just in the world. With that in mind, do you really think we could call ourselves captains of anything without attaining either the rank or qualification?"
"No?"
"Of course not," Dumbledore laughed. "I'm sure you would have realized that earlier if you hadn't been so excited by your new heroic name."
AN: I was going to title this 'The Masked Woodcock.'
Omake: A Laugh
"Don't worry about Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore said, a twinkle in his eye. "He died the way he always wanted to."
"Knowing that Voldemort was gone for good?" Harry asked. He and the Headmaster shared a hearty laugh. "Sorry, I needed that after all the blood and death today."
Omake: The Antihero
"Preck," a gravelly voice precked.
"Oh shit!" one of the gang-members squealed. "It's the Apex Predator!"
Omake by joey zoot
Examiner: "I'm afraid a score of 70 only qualifies you for the rank of third mate. Since the name Bolt is reserved for a Captain, Welcome to the superhero world Third Mate Lockwasher!"