Voldy: Who shall I kill today?
Hagrid: Gays kill people.
V: Are you implying something about my sexuality?
H: No – I'm gonna fart now.
V: You hairy heterosexual! You smell bad!
H: I jus' happen to like animals. And you wear leather clothes yerself.
V: Says you.
H: Whaddya mean "says you"? Fer a Dark Lord ye're quite unwitty with yer werds.
V: My wand is even more witty.
H: Now that sounds pretty vulgar. Why am I speakin' in such a fancy way?
V: You do not make any sense.
H: It don't matter. Ye know, Voldy, wouldcha like to shovel sum shit with me?
V: As a Dark Lord I do not consider it my duty.
H: Why not? Ye actin' jus' fancy?
V: Well Dark Lords just don't tend to shovel shit. Rather I slaughter members of the Order of the Phoenix.
H: I should 'ave guessed. Ye bloody snobs. Slaughterin' my cums while I shovel feces.
V: Instead of shoveling feces you could always defend your friends. But, by all means, keep on with your current chores.
H: Listen now, I'm the on of us tho who's got sum hair. And that's cus I shovel shit.
V: May I join you? Is this shovel usable?
H: Whadda hell? Doesn't look much like a shovel to me but you can some help me on one condition.
V: Yes?
H: Lemme come shovel the shit of your Death Eaters for the rest of my life.
V: (He hee. Silly giant. We won't need shitremoval spell any more.) Well… If you insist.
H: The dark arts'll make the rose 'ips flourish, I'm sure.
V: Excellent.
H: Ye know, Mortimer, when ye've got 'hair like mine then ye've got nice bits o' shit in yer beard like me.
V: Then Wormtail shall give me a bath.
H: Wormtail giving someone a bath. I find that as likely as a Weasley winning a Nobel prize.
V: Oh, Hagrid, you do not know everything.
H: Lucky I don't. But, Mort, I've gotta warn you.
V: About what? Do you think there is anything too dangerous for the Dark Lord.
H: There's nothing that I don't know about shit.
V: Tell me then if you assume that I am interested in the subject.
H: If ye've interested in a head of hair like mine then ye're interested in this. 'Cause shoveling shit might just cause sum dangerous desires.
V: Are you a victim of these… desires?
H: Aye.
V: And?
H: It makes me constantly crave for...
V: …
H: …Buttermilk.
V: WHAT? Dark Lords cannot drink buttermilk!
H: That is so. But in order to get lotsa hair a bald person must drink shit and shovel buttermilk.
V: That might wo- now wait a minute! I am definitely not going to shovel buttermilk! Dark Lords do not shovel buttermilk!
H: Confound it! Jus' lost a good - or, well- dunno – a pal anyways. Now I'm gonna talk to carrots while I shovel butterm—I mean shit!