The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and that was enough to make Bellatrix Lestrange's Saturday terrible.

"Eeeuw," she moaned as sunlight splashed on her face. "Go away, stupid sun!"

"You want me to go away?" asked the sun sweetly.

Bellatrix nodded eagerly.

"Well, SCREW YOU!"

Bellatrix stuck out her tongue and crawled out of her bed.

"Hi, sweetheart!" said Rodolphus in the kitchen. "Would you like Belgian waffles with vanilla ice cream and cherries or an omelet with strips of dragon bacon?"

Bellatrix made a strangling noise and sat at the far end of the table. "Lucky Charms, you tool," she said, displaying her evil face. "I'm going out."

"Where to?" asked Rodolphus as he prepared an all marshmallows bowl of Lucky Charms.

"Don't waste my time with trivial questions, Lestrange," said Bellatrix, flipping through a parenting magazine with a bored expression on her face. "But if you must know, Little Whinging."

Rodolphus choked on a piece of bacon. "Little Whinging? Um, why?"

Bellatrix sighed. "Well, duh," she said with a look that shot daggers. "I'm bored…Muggles everywhere…maybe an ice cream truck…"

"Ah."

"Bye, nitwit."

Bellatrix surveyed Privet Drive and groaned. "Eeeuw," she said. "Fat people."

Being insane has it's good points, so Bellatrix breaking into number four, Privet Drive, was completely acceptable in a wizarding community. However, number four, Privet Drive, was in a Muggle community, so….Bella was slightly screwed.

Four people were sitting at the kitchen table, eating breakfast. They didn't notice that Bellatrix was watching them until the youngest turned around to pet the bulldog lying on the floor.

"Who the hell are you?" shouted Vernon Dursley.

"Who the hell are you?" mimicked Bellatrix.

"Vernon, do you think she's one of…them?" asked Petunia nervously.

Marge frowned. "What do you mean, one of them?" she asked, voice high and suspicious.

"What do you mean one of them?" mocked Bellatrix, taking a swig of red wine.

Marge grew red in the face and shook her glass menacingly. "Stupid girl," she whispered, eyes bulging slightly. "You obviously don't know who you're messing with."

"I WANT YOUR LOVE AND ALL YOUR LOVER'S REVENGE, YOU AND ME COULD WRITE A BAD ROMANCE!" sang Bellatrix, jumping up and down. "I WANT—"

Marge grabbed her throat, and Bellatrix's mouth opened into a scream. "What the fluff do you think you're doing?" she hissed. "Let me go!"

"No one," whispered Marge, "sings Lady Gaga in my presence. EVER."

"YOU WILL NOT TAKE MY RIGHTS!"

"YOU WILL NOT MENTALLY SCAR THE READERS!"

The two women, one attractive, one not so attractive, both insane, ran at each other screaming. Marge inflated nearly instantly and got caught in the engine of an airplane, while Bellatrix felt a surge of pain in her abdomen as a broken wine bottle nudged itself into her uterus.

"AHH!" screamed Marge. "MY MOUTH!"

"AHH!" screamed Bellatrix. "MY—er, ICU! !"

"So, honey, how was it?" asked Rodolphus.

"I may have lost my ability to produce an heir," whispered Bellatrix, slumping into a chair. "And can you please help me get these shards of glass out of my uterus?"