This one was more fun to write than I anticipated. I thought it would be hard to "translate" all the dialogue into Olde English, but as it turns out, all you really need to do is throw in some "thous" and "doths", and attatch "-eth" onto any given word. I'm sure Shakespeare would be proud.

DC: Avril Lavigne, minstrel style. Oh man, now I've really done it. I don't own her, whatever, la la la, okay, over with that. Moving on.

"Read-eth!" (Ha, I just mad that one up because it was funny. But I bet someone actually said it.)

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"Minion!" Voldemort called.

"Yes, lord?" Snape appeared at the doorway.

"Doth be my parcel here yet?"

"Nay, lord. It doth not arriveth till the sky be blackened and lit-eth again."

"For perisheth, minion. Long haveth I awaited that parcel."

"Have patience, lord. For if it noteth arrive sooneth, we shall releaseth a pox upon ye postman's house, and all-eth his descendants."

"Excellenteth. Now go tend thou's brew."

"At onceth, lord." Snape bowed and left.

Voldemort rubbed his hands together gleefully. Tomorrow his newest piece of technology would arrive.

He leaned back in his high backed chair, careful not to squash his ruff. In his mind's eye he envisioned his next weapon.

"Ye Olde Rat Parke" he whispered. With ten furry little bodies of cheap labor, he could take the world on. Pimp'neth.

Because it was several hours until the sun went out only to be re-lit again by the cigar butt of the sky, the Dark Lord left his lair and went downstairs, to where he found Lucius cutting a hole in the parlor room.

"Lucius! What be-ith thou doing?"

The Death Eater turned around brightly. "Slicing a box in the walleth, lord!"

"For whateth purpose?"

"To see-eth the theatre, my lord! All the greateth forms of entertainment resideth there!"

"Ah-eth. Thou may continue on-eth."

Lucius bowed and heaved his axe onto his shoulder again. "I thanketh thou, lord."

Voldemort moved onto the kitchen.

"How doth thou be, Minion?"

"I faireth welleth, lord." Snape answered. "My brew doth be an invention of mine, and so-eth far-eth, it be quite delightful."

The Dark Lord leaned over the bubbling cauldron and sniffed. "Whateth be-ith in-eth there?"

"What I may findeth around, lord. Herbeths, coweth, watereth…"

"Watereth?" Voldemort asked, surprised, "But whereth did you acquire it? All that runeth from our taps be beer and rum, for that be-ith all not poisoned by-eth Cholera!"

"Oh, yes." Snape shrugged modestly. "That mayeth be true here, but I raneth down to the River Thames a few moons ago, and tooketh a bottle of it. I emptied it into thiseth."

Voldemort frowned. "Where is-eth this River Thames?"

"In-eth London, lord."

"London haseth a river?"

"Yes, lord. Tis the large trail of sludge that runeth through the very centereth."

"Ah-eth. That would explaineth it."

"Indeed, lord."

"Well, Minion, I willeth be going to Ye Olde Flutes 'N Moreth Shoppe to see-eth if the minstrel has learned Happyeth Endingeth."

"By Mistress Lavigne?"

"That be-eth the one."

"Enjoy thou self, lord."

"I willeth."

As Voldemort disappeared down the street, Snape looked at his cauldron, and deciding it need a touch of rum, went out to the pump, holding his five-galleon bucket. Looking through the window, noticed a large package sitting on the step. The postman must haveth delivered it-eth early-eth, he though, and left his bucket to see what it was.

The parcel, slightly beat up in some places, was squeaking a little bit. Cautiously, Snape picked it up and carried it into the foyer. A piece of parchment nailed to the top read "This way towardeth the heavens, for there be-ith living creatures in-eth hereth."

"Oh," Snape said aloud, "this must be the Ye Olde Rat Parke lord was talking about. Perhaps they be-ith famished."

Not one to starve fuzzy rodents, Snape went and got some of his stew. With much care, he ladled it into the box through the cracks, and realizing he still hadn't put the alcohol in, poured some galleons of rum in too.

Within a few moments, the hungry squeaking stopped.

Snape returned, pleased, to his kitchen to make some imported-from-Scotland tea. It was very hard to come by, and very expensive to transport.

An hour or two later, Voldemort returned, leading a minstrel by a chain around their neck. "I haveth purchased-eth the new set of songs, Minion!" he said brightly, "Now we shall haveth music all the time-eth!"

"Very good, lord." Snape said. "Thou's parcel arrived early-eth whilst thou be goneth."

"Ooh!" the Dark Lord clapped his hands excitedly. "Where doth it be?"

"In the parlor room, lord. Just by-eth the entertainment box of Lucius."

Voldemort sent the minstrel upstairs and proceeded to the parcel. He put it up next to his ear.

"It be-ith very quiet, Minion." The Dark Lord frowned.

"They sleep, lord. I gaveth them some of my delightful brew."

"Ah-eth." Slowly, Voldemort opened the parcel with his eating dagger.

Ten furry rats with red eyes leapt out and onto his face. "Ack-eth! Ack-eth!" he cried, clawing at the swarming rodents. "Get them off-eth! Get them off-eth!"

Snape grabbed a pie iron and raised it. "Hold-eth still-eth lord!" he cried and swung.

The rats abandoned Voldemort's face, and scampered across the room, foaming at the mouth.

"Stop-eth them!" he shouted, his face imprinted with a pie iron.

But they had already jumped out the open part of the wall that Lucius had cut out. Snape and Voldemort looked out and watched the rats as they raced down the street. Flames an destruction erupted in their paths, and in seconds London was chaos.

"Well-eth done, Minion," Voldemort said happily, "thou hath released the Black Death upon-eth the unsuspecting world."

"I thank-eth you, lord!" Snape said, as they watched Parliament fall.

"Hmm-eth." Voldemort said tapping his chin. "Wonder what be-ith this red device hereth. It says 'No push. Push make bad thing happen.'"

The two looked at each other shocked. "If only the speech were understandable-eth!" Snape exclaimed.

"Shall we find-eth out-eth what this doth be-ith?" the Dark Lord asked.

"Or courseth, lord."

Voldemort pressed it.

The world went black.

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AN: I am totally and completely aware that the Black Death is a plague transported by fleas on the rats, instead of a disease the rats themselves had from eating poisonous soup.