Author's Note: One of my friends and I had been kicking around the punch line for a while, and then I finally came up with a context for it.
"I do not like it, 'Arry Potter!" Fleur Delacour declared at the top of her considerable lungs. "There 'ave been rustlings in my rooms! I cannot sleep!"
"Okay, we'll check it out," Ron soothed, and he, Harry, and Hermione trailed the part-Veela up to her rooms. It didn't pay to be too careful, as no one was really sure how secure the place really was, even if the witch was half as mental as she sounded.
Fleur had not been mental. There were tiny scrabbling sounds coming from her bed. Hermione pointed a wand at the bed. "Vermicide!" she said, and the noise stopped.
Fleur stepped forward, turned back the covers, and shrieked. "Voldemort!" she cried. Her companions jumped and barely missed each other with their wildly cast hexes. Fleur pointed. "See?" she said, oblivious to the chaos she'd caused.
In the center of her bed was a dead mouse.
Vole de mort.