Super Muggle
Navigator: Bara Zeco
Station: Harry Potter
Class: A mere Muggle did what the most feared and evilest of wizards could not do. Murder Harry Potter.
Rank: One-Shot
Ship: Autopilot
Captain: J. K. Rowling
Make: Parody
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A golden old truck sped down the interstate, not mindful of the speed limit.
"I can't believe you," cried the passenger of the truck. "You murdered Harry Potter!" the passenger finished crying out. The truck sped up an exit ramp and came to an abrupt halt at the red light.
"Sure, make me feel worse about it.," said the driver.
"I bet he was waving at you, trying to get your attention," said the passenger.
The driver looked down in shame.
"And you ignored him. He must feel so unloved," the passenger pressed on, an evil smirk playing on their lips.
The light turned green, and so the truck turned right and sped, barely making it to the next light before it turned yellow.
"Poor, poor Harry." the passenger went on, shaking their head.
"We're coming Harry!" the passenger yelled, before muttering, "Murdered the boy-who-lived."
"You did what Voldermort couldn't do." the passenger accused. The driver turned red with shame. "You'll now be known as the Muggle who killed Harry Potter. Everyone will hate you, you know." the passenger went on. "Except, maybe the death eaters might love you. Don't know about that."
"You can stop any time now." the driver said, "I'm so sorry Harry." the driver muttered underneath his breath as he turned left down the road, just as the light turned red, and sped on.
"I wonder what Lilly and James would be thinking now if they knew what had happened to their little boy. Sacrificed their lives for him, keep him safe from evil Wizards and Witches, and the one thing they didn't think could harm their little boy, happened to kill him."
"He may not be torn up.," the driver said, glancing at the passenger. "Maybe a little rough around the edges, a bit bruised, but not dead." The passenger shot him a disbelieving look. "At the speed you were going when he flew past us? Not to mention he landed and skidded on asphalt, very old and rough asphalt. Lord only knows where he might have landed. I mean," the passenger shook their head in disbelief, "You didn't even try to murder Harry, you just," pause, "ran him over."
"I did not run him over."
"Yes you did."
The driver grumbled again and pressed the petal further down. The driver switched over to the far right hand lane and glided, a little too fast, around the corner of an intersection. He pressed the petal further down and sped up to the first stop sign, turned left and, like a bat out of hell, practically flew down Franklin road, the scene of the crime.
"Whoa, slow down, the truck's coming apart." The driver glared at the passenger, "Well it is old, besides, you might pass him up." At this, the driver eased off the petal and started to search around the deserted road, looking for Harry Potter.
"I can't see him," the passenger said as they pressed their body against the dashboard, looking with all their might out into the dark night, searching for Harry Potters' remains.
"There he is!" the driver said in relief and excitement as he immediately pressed the brake. "Thank god I was almost kissing the windshield when you stop." they said as the driver hoped out of the truck and went into the middle of the road. The driver soon came back and hopped into the truck, Harry right next to him.
"I'm sorry Harry," the driver said as he smoothed and patted Harry on the back. "Let me see him." the passenger said, grabbing Harry. "He isn't torn up like you said." the driver said with a smile and drove on down the road, happy as can be.
The passenger flipped the pages of the book and examined the cover, "Nope," the passenger said, putting Harry on the dashboard, "Not dead."
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone lay miraculously unharmed, as the owner of the book had placed it on the lid of the truck, and forgot it.
"This would make a great parody story," the passenger said with a chuckle.
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Yes, this really happened. My father forgot Harry on the lid and drove off, hearing something hit the ground that looked like a notebook and didn't realize what it was until we were about fifteen miles away from the crime scene.