"I decided that tonight we will be attacking St. Margo's." –KasyWolski27, "Life as a Snape"
A phantasmagoria of destructive spells flashed through St Margaret's Church, Westminster, overturning pews and shattering stained glass, and Voldemort cackled gleefully. "Faster, my Death Eaters, faster!" he cried. "Let no stone of St Margo's be left upon a stone – to coin a phrase, ha-ha!"
Yaxley paused in the act of Vanishing a chalice, and cocked his head. "Why do you keep saying Margo, anyway, My Lord?" he said.
Voldemort frowned at him. "To express contempt for the church and its patron, of course," he said, "and, by extension, the whole world of Muggle religion and culture. Why do you suppose we're attacking the place, for our health?"
"But why Margo?" said Yaxley. "Why not Madge, or Meg, or Margery? Or we could use Maggie; there's even a song for that one." And, before Voldemort could stop him, he struck a rock-star pose, his wand serving for a microphone, and bawled in the general direction of the ceiling, "Maggie, I wish I'd never seen your face! You something-something-something me, but I'm as blind as a fool can be; you stole my soul, and I'm running on a helicopter blade!"
Voldemort's groan was drowned out by the cheers of the other Death Eaters. "How about Peggy?" Macnair called.
"Oh, sure, Peggy!" said Yaxley. "Pretty Peggy-O! There's many a bonnie lass in the town of Alterklass…"
Voldemort rolled his eyes. "It's not fair, you know," he remarked to a nearby crucifix. "I know you were surrounded by idiots, too, but look what you made out of them. Nobody's going to be venerating these numbskulls' relics two thousand years from now."
(About this, as it happened, he wasn't quite correct – but that's a story for another time.)
"Now a Pteroleon, they have origins in Mesopotamian mythology, legend, and folklore… They used to be fierce proctors." –elvirakitties, "Not His Year, Chap. 1 to 14"
"Used to?" said Penelope. "They aren't still?"
"Well, they got a little too fierce, you see," said Flitwick. "Their zeal for their duties, combined with their natural leonine instincts, led them to take some… ah… rather extreme measures. The crisis came in 1666, when one of them caught a young man named Didymus Conker cribbing on his Potions O.W.L., and sprang upon him and devoured him right there in the classroom."
"Oh." Penelope shuddered. "Yes, that would do it, wouldn't it?"
"Indeed," said her Head of House. "The Headmaster of the time suspended them the next day from all proctorial duties, and they've never been reinstated. Not that we haven't been tempted, on occasion," he added thoughtfully, "but it's never quite been worth the paperwork."
"He didn't think of all [M]udbloods as enemies, just… lower on the totem poll." –KWtrust, "Of Logic"
"But why are we better than Muggle-borns, Father?" said young Draco Malfoy.
"Because, Draco," his father replied, "long, long ago, when all our ancestors were unwashed savages living in caves, the Great Spirit went round the totems of all the clans and polled them as to which kind of wizards they preferred: those who came from long-established magical families, or those who arose spontaneously from Muggle stock. 76% of the totems favoured us pure-bloods, and so it was inscribed on the fabric of Nature that we would forever be the superior class, and Muggle-borns the despised minority."
"Oh." Draco frowned. "That's not how Mother explained it."
"Well, there have to be some things that only fathers can tell you," said Lucius, tousling his son's ash-blond hair with a fond chuckle. "Otherwise, why would two different sexes have come out of the Primal Banana Gourd in the first place?"
"The boy was by any stander a handsome young man…" –NaruAndHarrHaremFan, "Hogwarts School for Magical Beings"
It was only next to those who were sitting, kneeling, or prone that his true hideousness was revealed.
Author's note: Yes, I know, it's rotten of me to fob off another micro-Minuet on you only four chapters after "Stone". So rotten, in fact, that I've decided to throw in a bonus Minuet not mentioned in the chapter title – in fact, not mentionable there, as I cannot guess, and the author tells me she cannot recall, what the correct word is supposed to be. Apparently the intended sense is something like "props" or "kudos" (the subsequent dative being a nickname for Barty Crouch himself, rather than the literalism I've made it), but what word with that meaning could have gotten transmuted into the first word of the quote below remains a mystery. In any case, here it is; hopefully this will tide you all over till next week, when I'll be posting another chapter's worth of thrawnca's discoveries.
"Chapeau to the Dark Puppy, I can not help but think he is brilliant, very intelligent and learns very quickly." –Lu82, author's note to "Tenebris Video"
"My Lord, what will we do if Crouch finds a way to infiltrate this place?" said Pettigrew nervously. "We know his magical genius and his talent for disguise; now that the Order of the Phoenix has converted him…"
"Nonsense, Wormtail," said Voldemort sharply. "There is nothing in the Manor that I haven't personally triple-checked; I trust you don't doubt my ability to detect glamours and… oh, is that my girl?" he added as his boxer Dishlicker came bounding into the room, her tail wagging and the bells on her new Easter bonnet jingling madly. "Who's happy to see her favourite Dark Lord? Ooh, aren't you a pretty girl, yes you are…"
From his perch atop the Dark Puppy's head, Barty Crouch reflected yet again that every evil genius had his blind spot. Transfigure oneself into a fancy bonnet for a dog and have Mundungus Fletcher get one displayed in a pet-supplies store that the Death Eaters were known to frequent – being listed as a "canine chapeau" to add that irresistible touch of class – and one could slip blithely past all of Voldemort's defences. (Of course, there were certain indignities attached, as Dishlicker had one or two habits Barty would just as readily not have known about – but one did what one had to for the cause.)