Bellatrix Lestrange, for reasons unknown, somehow found herself walking down a muggle street. She was in her normal attire—robe, wand in her hand, hair in a crazy and jumbled mess. Her high heels smacked the pavement as she walked, echoing every step. Her wand was held by her side, clutched tightly in case she needed to attack or defend herself.

Suddenly, a small voice behind her rang out, screaming, "Look a witch!" Bellatrix stopped in her tracks and turned to the source of the voice. A young girl no older than six was standing with her group of friends, pointing rather rudely at her.

She narrowed her eyes and called out to the small child, "It's rude to point."

The little girl did not respond. Instead she turned to one of her friends and giggled. She pointed to the water bottle in her friend's hand and winked. The other little girl giggled as well and before Bellatrix had a chance to protect herself, the child tossed an open water bottle in her direction, effectively drenching her in water.

"Is she melting?" A third girl asked excitedly, watching Bellatrix with interest. Bellatrix blinked stupidly for a second, slightly disheveled for a moment before she reached her senses.

"What do you mean 'Is she melting'? Why, you brats! I'm drenched!" She turned her most fierce Bellatrix scowl at them and pointed her wand. Before she could utter a single curse, the children realized that this woman was indeed not going to melt, and they ran for the hills. Bellatrix just stared in disbelief, sputtering and cursing about the indignity of it all. "Blasted brats, throwing water on me… I'll get you my pretties! And your little water bottle too!"