A/N: Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I am not J.K.R. or Meyer.
The meadow and her precious Edward morphed quickly into a bar she didn't recognize. Bella whimpered softly and sat down on a seat, waiting for her sparkle-pire boyfriend like the typical damsel-in-distress that she was.
"He's not coming; he's gone. Y'know. 'Gone'." a voice said behind her. An old wrinkly man flashed her a toothless smile. Bella stared back at him with chagrin. He's gone? As in dead? Her life was ruined. Waaah.
"Where's the nearest cliff, sir?" She asked, getting ready to bawl with all her pent-up wangst (not angst. Never angst. Bella's too 'cool' for angst).
"Please, call me Tom. And just go outside and turn to your left. Have a nice day."
Bella walked outside, in a daze, when suddenly, a red bolt flew towards her direction. Being a Mary-Sue, she squealed, and also being a Mary-Sue, someone protected her just in time. This someone being another old man, this time a taller one with a nicely grown beard.
"Ah, Voldemort," the old man said calmly. Vold-a-what? Bella thought. "Terrorizing Diagon Alley, now, are we? Seems a bit petty."
A guy stepped away from the shadows and lowered his black hood. Bella let out a scream. He had pale skin, like Edward's (*drool*), and red eyes, like a newborn vamp. His face was very weird, like a snake's face. He was absolutely horrible. Except for the skin. Though it didn't sparkle.
"Enough with the formality, Dumbledore," he snapped. "Let's get on with it. Your momma's so fat that she's blocks the sunlight from your house so all your plants wilt and drop dead! DEAD!"
"Bitch, please." Dumbledore scrunched up his face and exclaimed, "Your momma's so poor that she's the chairlady of the Wizarding Beggar's Association!"
"Your momma's so dumb that she uses her wand as a toilet plunger!"
"Your momma's so ugly that my momma is now in therapy!"
"Puh-lease! Your momma's only in therapy because she's so fat and dumb!"
Bella backed away slowly and ran away, frantically searching for the cliff that the old man was talking about. She, having clumsy as her only flaw, tripped over a teensy-weensy pebble, rolled down a ditch, and hit her head on a tree trunk, finally stopping. She groaned, longed for Edtard, I mean, uh, -ward, and stood up, inspecting her surroundings.