Maybe I haven't finished exploring this magical wizardly world.

And I started a new series.

This is your first taste of it, the very beginning of the new properly preposterous, new misadventures of Timothy Thompson-Worthington Shire, Jr.

Oh, wow.

That's smart.

That's why you, with the name, you retain the brand.

Mm-hmm.

So check this out.

Here's just a little taste.

Far, far afield in the far-flung, florid lands of California,

a 12-year-old wizard squirmed in the back seat of his parents' wizard car,

which is just a normal car, but it has a logo like a Volkswagen, but the V is gone,

so it's just a W so that you know that it stands for Wizard and is for Wizards.

This sucks. I'm bored. Can we go home? said the young wizard. Oh, hell no, said his father,

Timothy Thompson-Worthington Shire, whom attentive readers may recall from the previous 103 volumes of his

own series of wizarding novels that were written by me. Look, little Timmy Jr. We're going to

fucking Harry Potter theme park and you're going to fucking Harry Potter theme park,

and you're going to fucking deal with it. His mother, Serena Smokshow Thimbleworth,

who was his dad's only female friend in all the previous books, looked back at her son

with a somewhat sympathetic stare. It won't be long till we arrive. Why don't you eat some of your insorcelled starbursts, which are basically wizard starbursts that have a spell on them that makes them extra yummy and taste ten times more realistic than average starbursts.

And they only have good flavors, unlike those stupid Harry Potter candies.

Wizard candy sucks, said Timmy Jr. I'd rather eat clams casino or something good. I hate being a wizard.

...