(Author's note added 9/5/04) As several readers have pointed out to me, yes, I do know that this is Lethal Weapon. How could I not? The reason that I am writing this fic, is because I had an idea for a Harry Potter prequal and a sequal to the movie when I was watching it and, to write them, I would have to turn LW1 into Harry Potter. Thus, this fic. Hope that explains everything.

A/N: This is a fic I wrote back in December when I got bored over break. I'll be updating a chapter a day, just so you guys have something to read while I tak emy exams. After they're done, however, I will update my other stories.

This fic is based off the original scrip for Leathal Weapon 1, but Harry-Potterized.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. End of story.

December 18, 2010, 10 years after Voldemort's defeat, London

Brown hair spread across the pillow as a beautiful woman shifted on her couch. She opened her bloodshot eyes and reached over to the coffee table, snatching up a bottle of pills. Downing a few, she stood and walked out onto her balcony, pausing only to glance at a photograph on the wall. A group of students in what was unmistakably Hogwarts, all smiling and waving at the camera. A much younger and less weary version of the woman was smiling and talking to the black-haired boy next to her.

The woman inhaled the fresh, London air as she surveyed the city below her, like a queen and her kingdom. She started swaying slightly as she climbed onto the railing ....... and fell, spinning through the air like a rag doll.

She smashed the windshield of the car below as she hit.

Hallston, Ireland

"Bulls-eye!" shouted Roger Fort, leader of the Dragons. They were in power, ruling over the small sea-side town of Hallston. Roger was currently pointing a squirt gun at poor, defenseless collie tied to a street sign.

"Lucky shot," said his friend, Gray Thompson. "I could do that." He turned, laughing, back to the dog ..... when a shadowy figure strolls towards them.

"Who the hell are you?" Roger asked. The man ignored him and sat down next to three other Dragons. He pushed his long black hair away from his face and lit up a cigarette.

"Happy holidays," the man said, smiling at the group. "Mind if I join you?"

"Yes," Roger said bluntly.

"Fuck off," added Gray.

The man just smiled innocently, petting the collie's fur with one hand. With the other, he reached into a paper bag and pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels. "I need help drinking this. Cool?"

The Dragons looked at each other, confused. But the man went on.

"This your dog?" And then he did the strangest thing: he leaned in to talk to the dog in what had to be, for lack of a better term, Dog Speak. The Dragons shot him puzzled looks and Gray muttered to Roger that he had to be an escaped mental patient.

The man frowned at the Dragons. "Huh, you know what? He says he doesn't want you to keep spraying him. He just hates that."

There was an uncomfortable silence, then ....

"Oh, he does," Roger said slowly. "Well, mister, why don't you ask him what he would like ..... ?" The others snickered, while the mysterious man simply nodded.

"Okay." He conferred with the dog again. "What? You want .... oh. Oh. Hell no, I couldn't do that ..... Nossirree bob, you little mutt." He turned back to the Dragons, chuckling. "Get this. He wants me to beat the shit out of you guys."

A pin drop could've been heard. The Dragons' faces clouded up as they looked to their leader for instructions. Roger scrutinized the man carefully.

Of course, said man was still completely oblivious to the actions of those around him and went back to talking with the dog.

"What's that? The one in the middle ....... 'is a stupid fat duck'? What?" Pause. "Oh ... Oh! A 'stupid fat fuck'! Right, that makes more sense." He shook his head. "Boy, this dog is pissed."

Roger grabbed the man by his collar and hoisted him to his feet. "Buddy, you're shortening you life-span."

The man reared back and head-butted him, causing Roger to fall to the ground unconscious. He stepped back and surveyed the rest of his competition. The dog barked as Gray pulled out a switchblade.

"What's that? You want me to take the knife away ..... and break his elbow?" The dog barked again. "But that would be excruciatingly painful." Again, you guessed it, the dog barked. "If you say so ...... "

His foot flew out before any of them knew it and hit right on target: Gray's elbow bent with a sickening crunch. The remaining Dragons' smiles faltered.

"And if I separated the fat one's shoulder," the man went on. "He'd probably scream."

Within minutes, mincemeat had been made out of the five dog torturers.

The man smiled as he looked around at the Dragons' prone forms. He reached into his pocket and produced a small folded piece of paper, which he placed beside Roger. Then he lite up another cigarette and untied the dog.

"Okay, go on, get outta here." He began to walk away, but the dog remained close at his heels. "No, no, don't follow me. I'm an asshole. Go away." The dog just gave him (what else) puppy-dog eyes and the man caved. "Aw, shit. Alright, move it. Let's go." The dog yipped happily and trotted along behind her new master. "So, you live in the area? I was thinking of moving out here myself. How's the rent?"

A few hours later, Roger, Gray, and the rest of the Dragons were found, still unconscious. The only clue as to who left them like that was the note.

Dragons,

You really need to increase security. There goes your oh-so-brave and undefeated leader.

Raven A