Gamer4 in! Hey, people, and welcome back to the Mario Mario series! It has been a while! I'm working on a theory- if I have a longer break between stories, it will mean shorter breaks between chapters. (After all, there was only about a week between the end of Hylian Stone and the start of Dungeon of Secrets.) Depending on when this goes up, I might be running two stories at once for a while, which would unfortunately mean slower updates, but I'm almost to the end of that story, so we'll see. Anyways, I suppose I should note to any newcomers: as a warning, if you want this story to make any sort of sense, definitely read the prequels mentioned above. Of course, it's not likely to make any sense anyways, but still! Anyways, with no further preamble, on to the first chapter of Mario Mario and the Prisoner of Subspace!

Disclaimer: You get this once, and only once: I own neither Harry Potter or Super Smash Bros. Enjoy that legitimate disclaimer, it's not going to be a thing.

Mario Mario and the Prisoner of Subspace

Chapter I

A Fistful of Letters

The world is a weird place. This is a very well-known fact, and a very famous quote by... somebody. I don't know, maybe I should have done my research before I came in to write this.

...As it turns out, the person who made that quote was... me, right here, right now. Meaning it's not actually all that famous of a quote. Ah. Yeah, definitely should have done my research first.

However, I think I have just the story to prove that the world is weird. And it begins the way all great stories do: with a man vomiting over the side of a ship.

...Wait, what?

Huh, I've just been informed that the only story that actually starts that way is Shutter Island. My bad. But hey, that's the way this story starts, too. So let's get started.

XXXX

As stated, the story begins with a man vomiting over the side of a ship. He was a very strange man. He was short and dressed in a spacesuit complete with helmet, though the helmet was currently removed due to his perpetual seasickness. The helmet had a red light at the end of a long antenna that, though it won't actually be important for most of this story, doubled as a whistle. He had a large nose, eyes that were almost always closed, and the only hair on his head was a few strands on his forehead. He also happened to be a smasher.

Now, what's a smasher? Well, we'll get to that later.

He wasn't just any smasher, either. He was the President of the smashers. And from this, we finally start getting to the reason he was on a ship despite suffering from seasickness- one of his duties as the president was inspecting the smashers' prison every year. And it just so happens that the smashers' prison happened to be on an island.

Finally, the president of smashing straightened up, taking a deep breath, returns his helmet to his head, and heads over to a nearby chair to continue reading the paper he'd been reading before he'd started heaving.

It was a dark night, though thankfully, not particularly stormy, since reading the paper seemed to stave off the seasickness a little bit. However, the president had only been reading for a second or two when someone walking by said, "Mr. Tate, we're almost there. We're preparing to rise."

Mr. Tate, it should be mentioned here, was the president's name. Olimar Tate, former employee of Hocotate Freight, and current president of the smashers. Quite a success story. Olimar looked up, and, unwilling to open his mouth, gave a quick nod, tucking the paper into a pocket. His spacesuit hadn't originally had pockets, but it turned out this was a major inconvenience for a politician- or anyone, really- so he'd had some made.

Here, Olimar stood up and approached the railing of the ship, looking up at the approaching island. Being an island constructed by smashers to house their prison, it wasn't normal. It was a huge land mass that was- the key point here- floating several meters above the ocean's waves. The island was called, in a fit of absolute creativity, Prison Island. The most eye-catching part of this island was the large fortress that sat on top of it, which, thankfully, had a much better name- on top of Prison Island sat the dreaded fortress of Subspace. This was the actual prison.

As the ship drew near, it began to rise from the water, hovering up to the large island. As it rose, Olimar felt a deep chill grasping him. He shuddered- he hated coming here. Not just because of the seasickness- the guards of Subspace prison were feared the world over as horrifying abominations that would cause the most hardened horror fans to wet themselves with fear. So naturally, they were used to guard the worst criminals the smasher world had to offer.

Finally, the ship reached the dock. Olimar, shaking violently, stepped off the ship. The spires and towers of Subspace prison rose around him. Trembling, he stepped forward and began his inspection.

XXXX

Eventually, he was almost done. The only place he had left to inspect was the top security wing of the establishment, where the worst of the worst criminals were incarcerated. Slowly, he approached the tower and began to climb. The screams of the inmates filled his ears. Subspace was never quiet. These screams were very common. Pleas of innocence, cries to be released, general screams of fear at those horrifying guards. However, as Olimar approached the peak of the tower, the screaming seemed to die out. He passed several empty cells, until a voice suddenly spoke out from one of them. "Ah, is it that time of year already?"

Olimar jumped, and turned to see who had spoken. It was one of the prisoners, leaning back in his cell. "O-o-oh, it's y-y-y-you," Olimar said, teeth chattering. "H-how're things... going?"

"About the same," the inmate shrugged. "Nothing much has changed in... wow, has it already been thirteen years? Time flies when you're having fun, huh?"

Olimar was almost more unnerved by the calm demeanor of this prisoner than by the screaming of the others- people weren't this normal after thirteen years in this prison, they just weren't. "I...I guess it does?"

"Say, is that the paper?" the inmate asked, eyes falling on the newspaper sticking out of Olimar's pocket.

"Oh... oh, yeah," Olimar stuttered, having forgotten he had it.

"Mind if I... do you mind if I... read it?" the inmate asked, almost pleadingly. "Not much in the way of reading material in this place, you know? It's been so long since I've read an honest-to-goodness newspaper..."

Olimar gave a strangled sort of laugh. "Well... I don't see what... harm it could do..." Tentatively, he pulled the paper out of his pocket and handed it through the bars to the inmate, who accepted it slowly. He didn't dive on it like a madman, as Olimar had expected, but quietly pulled it through, leaning back against the wall, licking a thumb and flicking one of the pages.

"I do love the scent of a good newspaper in the morning," he muttered. "Assuming it's morning, of course. Hey," he added, flicking his eyes upwards, "have you done the crossword yet?"

"No...I hadn't quite- g-gotten around to it, yet," Olimar stammered.

"Oh, good. I do love a good crossword..." he opened the page with the crossword on it. "Let's see... 'twelve-letter word for a smasher who transforms into an animal not of their own species, often monstrously, at the full moon.' Dang, give me something a little harder, why don't you? 'W-e-r-e-c-r-e-a-t-u-r-e..."

"I must be going," Olimar said quickly, bowing his head nervously.

"Oh, don't mind me, don't let me keep you," the inmate said, waving his hand. "Say 'Hi' to von Karma for me, won't you?"

"A-alright," Olimar said, and quickly turned and almost sprinted away from the cell.

The inmate gave a light chuckle as he casually turned another page. "Didn't have the crossword done," he muttered lightly, as his eyes raked down the next page. Suddenly, his eyes froze. They locked onto one spot on the page. "No," he muttered, his cool demeanor vanishing. "It can't be..." he leaned in, looking closer. "But... it is..."

Suddenly, he jumped up. "Mr. President! You have to get me out of here! I NEED TO GET OUT!"

And so it came to be that, as Olimar hurried out of that fortress-on-a-rock, the inmate's voice was risen out, joining with the cacophony of cries around it for the first time in thirteen years. "I HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE! TO THE SMASH BROS.! HE'S AT THE SMASH BROS.!"

XXXX

...And now for something completely different.

Far away from that floating island, there was a town. And you know what's coming up next.

...Yeah, you do.

It was a town with- wait for it- a very strange name. Nobody knew who'd named it or why, only that it was an obscenely strange name, because, despite having nothing whatsoever to do with creeks or peaches, it was the town of Peach Creek.

So now, you may be wondering, Why does this town matter? I mean, aside from having a weird name, what does it have to do with anything that just happened? Don't worry, we're getting to it.

In this town, there was a house. And in this house, there was a family. This family was the Smiths. Father John, Mother Kate, and Son Bill. They were so ordinary that many people forgot what they looked like as they were looking at them. However, there was another member of the family in that house.

He was currently in one of the many bedrooms in the house, logged on to a computer he'd stolen from his cousin- namely, Bill. He was reasonably confident Bill wouldn't notice this, because, besides being dumb as a brick, Bill already had nineteen computers, all identical, with no unique files whatsoever, and convincing him that it was only eighteen would be only too easy.

This boy was roughly thirteen years old, had dark hair and blue eyes. Get ready to hear something that you're going to hear 9001 more times before this story is up- he, in fact, looked exactly like his father, except for his eyes- he had his mother's eyes. Remember this fact. It will be important.

He was currently dressed in blue overalls, a red shirt, shoes, and white gloves. He was always dressed like this, actually. Kind of a habit of his. Signs of puberty were just beginning to show on him, as a few thin hairs began to protrude from his upper lip. He was thirteen, after all. He generally wore a red hat on his head, but he didn't have it on at the current time, due to the fact that, of course, it was his power controller- he didn't keep it on him during summer vacation, even if his relatives would have let him.

...I have the feeling I jumped too far ahead. Let's take a step or two back.

The boy's name was Mario Mario, and he was a smasher. A smasher being a person (or rather, a being, as one of the first things smashers learn is that humans are far from being the standard of all life in the universe) with special powers that defy the normal laws of science. A power controller is what most smashers use to channel their powers, the exceptions being pokemon (though, as you may expect, this leads to many legal (and sometimes actual) battles over whether pokemon are truly smashers.) And Mario had just come back from his second year of education in the smashing arts at the Super Smash Bros. school of smashing. If that place sounds familiar, that's a good thing.

Mario sighed and rubbed his eyes. He was currently trying to research a topic for his least favorite class at the Smash Mansion- the study of power-ups, taught by the ruthless, eternally vicious, Wolf O'Donnell. The topic was 'Explain the significance of flame pendants in the events muggles describe as 'witch hunts.''

Well, Mario knew a smasher who'd actually lived through a few witch hunts, but the problem was, he was A.) A ghost, and B.) A little bitter about that era, and wouldn't likely be keen on discussing them. So, he had instead elected to snatch one of his cousin's many computers and use his improbable computer skills to hook it up in his own bedroom so he could research witch burnings with it. There were all sorts of sites by smashers, for smashers if one was willing to look, and he'd been able to log on with relative ease. He was now currently reading about delusional people who relentlessly brutalized people they viewed as inferior and treaded down on them in order to bolster their own imaginary views of their own magnificence. But reading the Harry Potter headscratchers page on TvTropes was getting boring after a while, so he shifted over to actually researching his topic.*

As he browsed through several sites looking for information on witch hunts from both a muggle and smasher perspective, his mind cast around to his previous two years at the Smash Mansion, and the events that led him to this point. Because the truth was, Mario was an abnormality even among the smashers. And it all tied to the M-shaped scar on his forehead.

A long time ago, in a galaxy that wasn't all that far away- in fact, it was ours,- there was a smasher that turned to evil. He got as evil as it was possible to get, then kept going. According to rumors, he died at least twice on this journey into absolute evil, but Hell was too scared of him to keep him. And his name was Tabuu. He had another name, but mainly because it was subject to spoilers for the previous story, Mario refrained from remembering it at this point. He had started out looking like a normal person, but after a great deal of horrible magical transformations, he had been reborn as a hideous being made out of light, an abomination of nature with only thoughts of darkness- basically, not the kind of guy you invited to Christmas parties.

At one point in his reign, this monstrosity had suddenly, inexplicably, developed an interest in Mario. Mario himself had only been a couple months old at the time, so why Tabuu suddenly became so freaking interested in him is anyone's guess. Bottom line is, Tabuu wanted to kill him, destroy him, maim him, and, overall, make his day unpleasant. And while he did manage in killing his parents, when he'd tried to kill Mario, the attack had miraculously backfired, the M-shaped scar being the only sign that anything had happened at all, while Tabuu was completely destroyed.

However, as it turns out, death doesn't mean much to some people. Tabuu had so far found not one, but two ways to get back into Mario's life. While we won't go into too much detail, as those particular stories are only a couple clicks away, we'll sum them up for you.

First year at the Smash Bros., Tabuu himself invaded the Smash Mansion on the back of a trusted teacher's head to try and capture an artifact known as the Hylian Stone to regain his own body, unable to conjure a corporeal form. Second year, he proved that even objects he touched turned evil as his old school planner was used to unleash a horrible monstrosity on the students of the Smash Mansion, which paled in comparison to a new teacher on the premises more monstrous than anything Tabuu could have conceived of in his wildest daydreams.

Mario sighed and rubbed his eyes. Almost being killed by a gigantic electricity-conducting monster turtle had a way of throwing you off a bit. Somehow, when he thought about it, he couldn't focus on his essay. Ah well, there was always tomorrow. He closed the internet browser and casually glanced at the clock. 3:33. Was it just Mario's imagination, or did 3 seem to be an important number in his life?

Suddenly, his body gave a jolt as the realization hit him- it was 3:33 on the day of his birthday. He'd been thirteen years old for roughly three and a half hours without even realizing it. Though, of course, if he'd been listening to the narration earlier, he would have realized it much sooner.

Hearing the narration, Mario wearily muttered, "Shut up, it's too early in the story to be breaking the fourth wall." He was wrong, of course. It's never too early to break the fourth wall.

Sighing in exasperation and making a resolution to ignore the narrator for at least the rest of the chapter, Mario headed over to his window to stare out of it. It wasn't like he had much to look forward to on his birthdays. After his parents had been died, he had been left in the hands of his Aunt and Uncle Smith- and to say that their care was questionable was the biggest understatement since the last time I said something was a huge understatement.

...Turns out I haven't actually done that since halfway through the last story. Ah.

They had relentlessly kept him downtrodden throughout his younger years in the hope they'd be able to somehow expunge his smashing abilities from him. This hope, of course, had turned out to be vain. Naturally, however, him going to a school for smashers didn't necessarily mean they had given up- even this summer, they were still doing all they could to pretend he didn't exist. He didn't expect them to acknowledge his birthday- they hadn't acknowledged the last two, after all. Granted, the first one had been because Uncle John had been in the middle of a psychotic breakdown, but Mario still suspected that celebrating his birthday wasn't particularly high on their 'to-do' lists.

They were particularly angry at him right now due to a failed phone call from a friend of his at school- Link Faron, swordsman with an affinity for hammerspace, dressed in green. At the end of the previous year, Mario, desperate for someone to talk to over the summer that wasn't his relatives, had given his phone number to both Link and their third friend, Zelda Hyrule. Link had ultimately been the first to call, and the incident that followed was one that Mario and Link would both agree to never speak of again. It stemmed, of course, from the fact that, as a pure-blooded smasher, Link hadn't had much contact with phones before (though Mario distinctly remembered that there had been phones in Link's Awakening when he'd played through it) leading to a confrontation between the boy in green and Uncle John. Mario had been thoroughly reprimanded by his uncle after this, and since, neither Link nor Zelda had called. Unfortunate on Zelda's part, since she was familiar with phones (she was a muggle-born after all,) and had much more common sense.

Overall, he had basically been railroaded into the same summer that he'd had the previous year. The one thing that had changed is that, after making the case that more free time meant less noise and, by extension, better sleep, Mario had finally won the right to allow his pet albatross, Parrakarry, to have a consistently-spelled name. After the author had failed to uphold that, he had settled for letting him out of his cage every now and again, just so long as (this restriction was placed by Uncle John) he didn't attempt to send any letters to his friends.

This was the reason that Mario was currently alone in his room. Parakarry was out flying around at the moment, searching for the 'r' that had just gone missing from his name. And, Mario supposed, he could be doing some other stuff that birds did. Really, he didn't know what albatrosses did for fun. It had been a while, and while Mario didn't tend to worry- Parakary was typically gone for long periods at a time- he did hope the bird would come back soon. At the Smiths', he was the only connection Mario had to the smasher world.

Suddenly, Mario snapped to attention. As he had been staring out of his window in reverie, a sudden shape had appeared on the horizon- or as close to a horizon as a town like Peach Creek was capable of having. It seemed to be a large creature of some sort. Mario hesitated, staring at it for a moment, before he suddenly found himself able to recognize it. As he did, he stepped back, opening the window and allowing the "creature" entry.

As it turned out, it wasn't one single creature, but three separate albatrosses. Two of them, he recognized, one of them, he didn't. One of them, an old, decrepit-looking thing passed out as soon as it touched down in the room. Noticing a package with a note tied to it, he relieved the bird of its burden and put it up in Parrakary's cage, right next to the water bowl, so it could hydrate itself when it awoke. He recognized him as Bootler, the family albatross of none other than the Farons. Deciding to relieve the other albatrosses before opening the package, he turned to the others.

Well, the identity of the second albatross was no mystery- it was none other than Parakarry himself. He, too, was carrying a package with him. After Mario had taken the package off of him, he fluttered up to the cage, sitting directly on Bootler and taking some water for himself.

Finally, Mario turned to the third albatross. While he didn't recognize it, he knew where it came from. It was carrying a package and two letters, and one of them bore a coat of arms he recognized very well- a lion, an R with a lightning bolt on it, a dog sleeping protectively on eggs, and a mountain with several horizontal triangles running through it, all surrounding the central symbol of a circle with a vertical line near the left and a horizontal line near the bottom. Taken together, these seemingly random images became the symbol of the Super Smash Bros. He quietly took the package and the letters from it. This albatross didn't seem to feel any obligation to stay, taking off almost as soon as he'd taken its burden. Moving quietly, not wanting to wake the Smiths, he decided to first open the letter from Bootler.

As he'd suspected, this letter turned out to be from Link. At first, it seemed to be extremely thick, but he realized, as he unfolded it, that it was two separate papers: a letter and a newspaper.

Hey, there, Mario! (It ran.)

How's it been hanging over there? Sorry if I got you into trouble with that whole 'phone' thing. I talked to Zelda about it, (in a letter, of course,) and she sent back a picture of herself facepalming. Apparently, that's not what you do with a phone. Hope the muggles weren't too hard on you.

Anyways, guess what! Dad entered the lottery this year, just for the heck of it, and guess who won! That's right, the Farons aren't so unlucky after all! I'm writing this from Egypt- we came over here to visit Linebeck on one of his digs. There's some awesome stuff over here- I'll have to tell you in person next time we meet up! Let's just say that you shouldn't mention the 'Eox incident' to Rob.

Speaking of Rob, on a much less awesome note, he just got his letter from the Smash Bros. He's been made Head Boy. Hoorah.

Back on Egypt, I sent the article over to you also. This is also where I got your present- more on that in the card.

We'll be coming back home, soon. Any chance of meeting up in Twisted Lane? If not, see you on the Great Fox!

Link Faron.

Mario smiled a little. Link wasn't always the most proficient writer. Nevertheless, he was glad to hear about the Farons finally achieving a victory. There wasn't a family anywhere more deserving of winning a large amount of money than them. It was interesting to hear about the trip as well- he didn't know much about Linebeck, only that he was Link's older brother. He'd already graduated from the Smash Bros., and currently worked as a treasure hunter for the smasher banks. Glancing at the article, he took in a picture of all the Farons standing happily together. From left to right, he could see the tall, mustached and bearded Rusl Faron, the shorter, slightly plump, very kind Uli Faron, Kirby and Meta Knight Faron, identical pink puffballs with looks of mischief in their eyes, Rob Faron, a sentient robot, the young Peach Faron, dressed in pink, and Link himself, dressed in his standard green, and with the cuckoo Oreo standing precariously on his shoulder. On Link's other side stood two more youths- a young woman with a single fang and her hair done up in a ponytail that he assumed was Midna, and a young man with shaggy hair and a thin moustache and a blue pirate-style coat that must be Linebeck himself.

Finally, Mario opened what really amounted to his first (real) birthday present. Under the wrapping was a card sitting on top of a box. Opening up the box, he found a small model sitting inside a glass container. The model was of some sort of relic resembling three triangles with one standing on top of the other two, though if you tilted your head and squinted, it could be a large triangle with a smaller, upside down triangle in the center. Smiling at it, he turned to the card.

Hey, Mario!

This is a model of something called the 'Triforce.' According to Linebeck, it's pretty much the ultimate sought-after artifact, which, of course, means nobody is even sure if it exists. But it's apparently certain that if it exists, this is what it would look like. If it senses someone doing something bad nearby, it's supposed to break apart and the three triangles float around. Linebeck thinks this one's defective because it was doing that all through dinner last night. He didn't take into account that he was sitting next to Kirby and Meta Knight.

Giving a small, quiet laugh, Mario set the letter next to the Triforce replica. That done, he turned to the package and letter from Zelda.

Salutations, Mario! (Mario sniggered at Zelda's insistent formality.)

How has your summer been going? Mine is perfectly acceptable so far. I mean, I haven't been doing anything as exciting as Link has, if you have heard about that. I read about it in the paper, I've been having it delivered. Such a great thing to happen to them, isn't it? I'm jealous- imagine all the things he's learning over there!

Mario took a brief pause to do just that, but failed to imagine Link actively attempting to learn.

Well, okay, that might be a bit of a stretch, the letter admitted, but still, it's a wonderful opportunity!

Anyways, I know your birthday is coming up, and I even had the perfect gift picked out, but I was just wondering about how to send it to you, when lo and behold, your albatross dancingly descended into my room- through the window.

Mario laughed. "So, in reality, he neither danced nor descended," he said under his breath.

I think he wanted to make sure you actually got something for your birthday, so I sent your present with him.

Anyways, with school starting up again soon, I'll be heading to Twisted Lane in a couple weeks to pick up my school things. From what Link says, he'll be there too! Any chance you can make it? If you can, wonderful! If not, see you on the Great Fox!

Sincerely, Zelda.

Mario smiled as he turned to the package Zelda had sent him. He picked it up- he could tell from the size and shape that it was some sort of DVD case. He could easily imagine it being The Complete Second Season of NOVA or something like that, knowing Zelda. But he was wrong.

He gave a quiet gasp as he opened the package and found a red DVD case with a large picture of himself in a kart speeding across a raceway. The name across the top read Mario Kart 8.

"Nice one, Zelda!" he smiled, setting it aside. It just so happened, he'd also managed to swipe one of Bill's twenty-three Wii Us, so maybe he'd give that a shot before summer was out.

Next, he turned his attention to the final package. The letter next to it was in an untidy handwriting that he recognized as the signature style of his other friend at the Smash Bros.: the Crazy Hand, a gigantic, perpetually insane, disembodied left hand inside a glove. Opening the letter first, as usual, he read,

Be it going how, Marios?

Wat da buzz, wat be goin on? Mez not be hearin from you! It not be da Smittie Werbenjaegermanjensens messin' up again, be it?

Mez gottsa gr8 newsies for you! Iz not say here, it be big surprise! My present be kinda clue! It be sometin you be needin dis year! Me say no morez here! All be clear!

Crazy!

Mario turned to the package, and, now genuinely curious, tore it open. It turned out to be... a book. He couldn't discern a title, but the moment it was free from the wrapping paper, it suddenly flung itself open, and a fountain of dark light came pouring out, and a voice began growling what sounded like ancient dark magic- until Mario, panicking slightly, slammed it shut, and, reaching out to his dresser, pulled out an old belt of Bill's that he never used and bound it shut. "Shut up!" he growled. "Your ancient curses are going to wake up my Aunt and Uncle!"

He stared at the book, wondering how such a thing could possible prove useful at the Smash Bros. Ultimately deciding, for the moment, that he didn't want to know, he turned to the final letter. Picking it up, he noticed it was a little heavier than it usually was. Flicking it open, several pieces of paper came fluttering out. He turned to the main one.

Dr. Mr. Mario,

The Super Smash Bros. School of Smashing is excited to see you return for your third year. As usual, there will be transportation to the Smash Mansion from Seatac Airport, Platform Q, 11:00. We look forward to seeing you there. Your ticket and a list of all required schoolbooks for this year are enclosed.

As a sidenote, third year students and above are permitted to visit the smashing village of Kurain on certain weekends, provided they receive permission from their parent or guardian. This in mind, a permission form has been enclosed as well. Have it signed and hand it in to the head of your group when you return to the Smash Mansion.

Sincerely,

Samus Aran

Samus Aran

Vice Headmistress, Super Smash Bros.

Mario was much less happy at this. He knew that the odds of the Smiths actually giving him this kind of permission was slim to none. He'd love to go to Kurain Village, mind you- he heard it was one of the very few towns in the country inhabited purely by smashers or smasher-type creatures- but still... Smiths.

Looking around his room, he sighed. It was too late to worry about it now. He'd consider it in the morning.

Focusing instead on his first real birthday presents, he allowed a smile as he slid into his bed. For the moment, despite all the odd things about him, he could feel like a normal teenager- staying up really late, probably sleeping in late tomorrow, and genuinely happy that it was his birthday.

XXXX

*Just as a warning, over the next several chapters, you may hear a very depreciating statement that is then compared to the Harry Potter headscratchers page on TvTropes. I apologize in advance if I offend anyone, but if you ever try to read through those, you'll see my point.

And thus ends the very first chapter! Hot dog, it feels good to be back to writing Mario Mario! I've been writing another story to keep myself busy in the meantime, and though I love writing that story too, (otherwise I wouldn't be writing it,) it just wasn't the same. It was horror, for one thing, but humor is just more my element. But mystery waits on the wings, too! Who is Sirius Black? I will say that I dropped a major hint in one of my previous chapters, and much earlier than you'd think!

Also, just a reminder to people coming back from the previous stories, and to tell those reading this story first- if there's something you're confused about, like if you're fairly certain something was a reference, but you didn't get it, or if there's just something you'd like to know more about- the Q&A system is still in place! Just ask the question in a review, and I will answer to the best of my ability! Aside from that though, (it's great to be saying this again,) please R&R, constructive criticism that may make the story better is welcomed with open arms, flames will be used to bake some pie, Gamer4 out!

Sidenote: I forgot to put this in until literally the second before I uploaded this: the cover for this one is Mario Potter, courtesy of rumper1 on deviantart. Thanks to said artist! This time for real, Gamer4 out.