Evidently, this is the second part. Allow me to say "duh".

The Discovery Continues

"Look!" gasped Crabbe, pointing to a little silver laptop computer that had suddenly flickered into existence on the common room armchair. Except that being Crabbe, his gasp sounded like a grunt anyway. And you just don't grunt in surprise for effect.

Which is why Goyle did not turn to look until ten seconds later. But of course, maybe he was just waiting until Crabbe had grunted all this for the tenth time. Still, when he did, he did a double-take and clutched his heart. Except that being Goyle, he mistook his heart for being on the right side of his chest instead of his left. But this was all very well, because the next moment, he said hoarsely, "I don't believe it, Crabbe. It's back!"

To a normal somebody, this would have been stating the obvious, but being Crabbe, he furrowed his brow and scratched his head, obviously of the belief that scraping one's fingernails along one's scalp would in some way quicken one's brain. "Uh, do we tell Draco?" he suggested, finally getting there.

At this point, Goyle opened his mouth to reply with another slow-witted comment that would evidently not proceed this story's plot anywhere, so the irritated author decided to intervene. Instead of his usual dumbness, Goyle came out with, "Good idea!"

The gleeful author also came to the conclusion that if left to their own devices, Crabbe and Goyle would never locate Draco Malfoy. So for their sake, at that moment a smooth-looking Draco Malfoy swept into the dungeons, his customary white blonde hair as sleek as ever. There was also a strut in his step. One can assume that his memory of the previous fanfictions we last examined had been somehow modified by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Draco!" grunted Crabbe, pointing to the laptop. "It's back!"

Draco looked curious, walking over. "What's that?" he said distastefully, eyeing the laptop suspiciously. He had evidently forgotten that it had appeared last time. "Isn't that some Muggle-"

Sighing, Goyle plucked his wand off the table and directed it at Draco, quickly modifying his memory so that the recollections came soaring back into his mind.

He looked horrified. "No," said Draco decisively, making to get away, but he was automatically stopped by Crabbe's iron-hard fist closing around his wrist. "Get away from me!" he said in terror, jerking his arm. "Father will hear about this!"

Crabbe grinned brutishly, which is to say, he looked even more creepy and unintelligent. "Not if you die first," he said menancingly.

Draco's eyes darted from Crabbe to Goyle. He could practically feel their waves of dimness transferring onto him, for he could think of no single reason why he might suddenly die. "Why?" he asked shakily.

Goyle cracked his knuckles. You see, he had a calcium deficiency as well as a brain cell deficiency. "Because," he said thrillingly, "If you break the Unbreakable Vow, you die!"

Draco froze temporarily in his confusion. "What Unbreakable Vow?" he demanded.

Crabbe now spoke, because it was his turn. The author insists on alternating the two thugs for variety. "The one you made on how you would do everything we told you to do when the comp-comp-" He tried again. "Comp-you-ter!"

Draco narrowed his eyes suspiciously, wondering if this was a lie. He could remember no such thing. But then again…he hadn't remembered the actual fanfiction-carrier thing either, he thought, watching it loathingly.

"Good!" crowed Goyle, rubbing his hands. "Hey, Nott!" he grunted. The grunt carried across the room to where Theodore Nott was lazily reading Intermediate Transfigurations on another armchair.

"What?" he asked, visibly annoyed that his reading had been disrupted. As he came closer, Crabbe surreptitiously modified his memory as well, but instead of the negative reaction provided by Draco, Nott positively oozed glee. "It's back!" he shouted joyfully. This time, they didn't even need the Imperius Curse. Nott turned to Draco, the happiness on his face fading as he saw his sulky and murderous expression. "Lighten up," he scoffed, grabbing the laptop and setting it on his lap. "Ohhhh, my, you don't know how long I've waited to read the next update on this…" He skimmed several pages carefully before delightedly clicking on a story entitled Incandescence by a certain Lomonaaeren.

"So what's that?" sneered Draco, folding his arms. "Another one of my escapades with Granger?" He mimed someone gagging, but found that it came naturally, not shockingly.

"No, no," said Nott distractedly, already on the second half of the story. He was devouring it quite quickly. "With Potter. Who else?"

"Who else?" repeated Draco, revulsion tugging him away from the screen. "Are you kidding? Of all the girls in the world, they give me Potter?"

"Hey." Nott suddenly turned away from one of the more racy scenes and looked at his friend with interest. Hey, calm down, I never said sexual interest…gosh. "How did you know about all the other Potters?" he asked accusingly. Behind him, Crabbe and Goyle nodded in agreement. I mean, it's not like they could do anything else.

"Other Potters?" Draco blanched. "You mean there's clones of him I end up with?" he asked in defeat.

Goyle made a noise that suggested he was unimpressed with Draco's current display of intelligence. This guy has high standards, see.

Meanwhile, Nott was shaking his head impatiently. Now he has a right. "No, no," he said again, waving them off. "I meant his other relatives that we never hear about?" When his audience continued to look puzzled, Nott rambled on in a clear voice. "Like here, for instance," he said passionately, wanting to explain but not able to penetrate certain thick skulls. "Hillary Lilly Potter, Harry Potter's twin, separated from him at birth."

Draco looked appalled. There was a little silence, and then he said exasperatingly, "No, I was joking in talking about a female Potter. Obviously he lacks the manliness I inherited from Father."

Crabbe looked wounded. "Do I?" he asked meaningfully, looking as if he would only accept one answer.

"You're good," said Draco hastily, making a mental note to scourify his mouth later.

Nott stood up, rather mad that everyone was bored. So he resorted to do what no one else had ever done before in a feeble attempt to garner some attention. He said loudly, "I'm going to take off my shirt."

Crabbe and Goyle's impossible speed in whipping around was reminiscent of the speed at which Albert Einstein's brain ticked.

"Okay, I'm not," said Nott authoritatively, glancing at Draco's tightly shut eyes. "Draco, you can come out now."

Being frightened to near death already, Draco moaned and screamed, taking it as innuendo. "I was never in!" he screeched loudly.

Nott looked disgusted. "Excuse me?" he asked incredulously.

Crabbe, meanwhile, looked as if he had been granted the treat of his life. In order not to sick out the reader to death (and failing to think of anything gross enough to suffice), the author simply left out what that was, hoping childishly that the readers would simply take this as a passing statement and not be concerned with Crabbe's hidden true nature.

Draco muttered something mutinously under his breath and then looked up at the other three, his bloodshot eyes looking an awfully lot like Kreacher's. "Why do you do this to me?" he pleaded, crawling on all fours to Goyle and seizing the hem of his robes. As Goyle got ideas in his head, Draco quickly released it but continued to grovel all the same. "Please," he whispered, looking broken. "I'll do, uh-" He remembered the speed that Goyle had used in wanting to see a shirtless Nott and shivered involuntarily. "I'll do almost anything," he amended lamely.

Goyle's eyes took on a pigishly calculating gleam, and that, I tell you, is quite a difficult thing to master. "Ah ha!" he shouted, snatching the laptop away from a protesting Nott. "Anything?" Seeing Draco nod, stricken, Goyle chuckled. "All right," he announced. "You will be forced to do anything Crabbe or I command from now on until whenever we release you from this bond."

Draco stared, more surprised that Goyle had used correct grammar than anything else. But then again, of course, that quote was just another, ah, nudge from the author in order to progress the plot, see…she has no intention of confining this supposedly more exciting second segment to more screaming and moaning in the Slytherin dungeons.

Nott looked miffed. "Hey!" he complained, left out. "What about me?"

Crabbe paused and browsed the site for a few seconds. "Your most frequent pairings are with Lovegood, Granger, Greengrass, Draco, and Potter," he announced, looking up.

It was Nott's turn to look utterly frightened. "Don't go on," he commanded weakly, fumbling for his wand.

Goyle grinned brutishly, that is to say, naturally. "That's it," he said casually, throwing aside some random book he found under the couch cushion. "You're not important enough to appear in any more fanfictions."

"And I suppose you are?" retorted Nott scathingly, raising his hands.

Meanwhile, Draco had found the book Goyle had tossed aside and was examining it with ease, turning it between his slim fingers. "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire," he muttered softly, glancing at the back cover. "By, ah, J.K. Rowling?"

Crabbe's head snapped up. "The author once again denies claiming to own any of Harry Potter," he intoned in a strangely deep and full voice. "Usually she would not do such a repetitive thing, but as many others do so in their second chapters, she also feels the urge to comply with that general unwritten rule."

Goyle blinked. "Hey, that's my deep voice that comes out of nowhere!" he growled.

Draco wasn't paying them much attention. "Chang?" he said softly, snickering for the first time in hours. "He likes Chang?" Utterly spellbound, Draco flipped several pages into the book, perfectly engrossed in the strange thing that documented…everything. It was delicious, something like finding Potter's diary under Weasley's moldy dress robes.

"What's that, Malfoy?" questioned Nott suddenly, bored with Crabbe and Goyle's continued debate. Seeing as there was a total lack of witty repartees being exchanged on either side, there was basically no entertainment in following them speak.

He was smirking violently, his eyes glued, fascinated, to the pages as he had never done before to any book. "I really am portrayed quite accurately by this author," he said, sounding impressed. "I mean, this isn't like other fanfiction. This is like…I mean, this is like me in the book. I-I actually did this stuff, that's the thing…"

Goyle suddenly stopped arguing and raised his head seriously. "This is because J.K. Rowling does hold the original rights to these events." There was that weird voice again.

"Ah," said Draco distractedly. He suddenly doubled over with laughter, gasping and crying tears of mirth over the part he had arrived at. "Look at this!" he choked, shoving the pages at Nott. "I totally burned them after the Quidditch World Cup! Look! This makes me look so…" he paused. "Smooth."

But he was the only person who looked happy. Crabbe certainly didn't. "Okay, look, Draco," he said roughly, scowling. "You promised you would do anything we told you to do." Watching as Draco kept his eyes fastened to the enchanting words of the book, he gritted his two teeth into powder. Such was the force of his frustration that the author felt it appropriate to demonstrate it literally. "And I command you to drag Granger down here and marry her!" he finished screechingly, waving his arms for emphasis.

Everyone froze.

"Hey, look, Malfoy, you have a son named Scorpius!" said Nott merrily, who had reclaimed the laptop. "I'm certain of it! In fact, I've also done some research on this lexicon thing that says so. You get married to Asteria Greengrass."

Draco looked curious. "Who the heck is that?" he asked.

Nott snorted. "Yeah, I'd like to know too," he said meaningfully. "On here she's portrayed with at least ten different personalities."

At this time Crabbe was positively boiling. "I command you!" he howled, aiming his wand at Draco, "to get Granger down here and marry her!" He stopped, panting. It was purely ingenious. To base his former ringleader's torture off of a fanfiction…mwuahahaha…that was all Crabbe could think.

Goyle finally caught on. "Imperio!" he hissed, slashing at the air in front of Draco. "Obey him!"

Nott, who had pulled out his own wand to retaliate, was cast into a full-body bind. He watched hopelessly from the floor as a practically fainting Draco Malfoy unwillingly dashed out of the Slytherin common room to beyond, no doubt magically bound to perform his task…

Shuddering internally, Nott briefly wondered which fanfiction Crabbe had modeled the coming situation off of. Dang it, though. There were at least a billion of those forced marriages fanfictions…no doubt his choice had been from a wide variety.

Within minutes, Crabbe and Goyle came trudging back up, with Draco gritting his teeth in cold frustration as he dragged a screaming and immensely confused Granger into the room. Don't worry; the author assures all that their memories will be wiped in time for dinner. And it's not like Crabbe or Goyle would breathe this to a soul.

"Now," cackled Crabbe, rubbing his hands gleefully in anticipation. "You will tell the wizarding community that you have been forced into this marriage-"

"But we're only fourteen!" spluttered Granger, trying to twist her hair out of Draco's reluctant grasp. "We-I-I have my entire school years to finish, and then a career to pursue, and then there's-"

"Silencio!" barked Goyle, waving his wand. The author hopes that no one will notice how she had Hermione cut off right at the place the author lacked knowledge about what followed. Anyway, he continued where Crabbe had left off. "You will tell the wizarding community-" he leered at Granger "-that it is for the sole purpose of an inter-blood alliance. You will be released only when seventeen children have been produced in the union-" Draco made a sudden convulsing movement but could not budge his hand from Granger's hair "-by which time you will have fallen too deeply in love to have the heart to back out of it."

"No!" screamed Granger silently, kicking and lashing out in protest. Sadly, the author had thought to have Goyle remember to disarm her when they first went up for her to lessen complications of her breaking free. She continued to shrill without sound. "What about Ron? I love him! You can't take me away from him-"

"Oh, that's what you always say in the beginning," said Crabbe breezily, waving her off. "Except you actually mean it at first in the fanfictions."

Granger looked horrified. I mean, even more. "I do mean it!" she sobbed. But strangely enough, all of a sudden, a wand protruded from her closed fist.

How did this happen? Well, apparently Crabbe and Goyle were too busy pondering this deeply provocative problem to react, for the next moment, Granger had whipped the wand to both their faces and knocked them out with ingenious Stunning spells like the ones Crabbe and Goyle had used in the previous chapter.

Next, in case you care, she unfroze Nott but Stunned him as well. Same fate goes for poor Draco, whose sleek silver blonde hair (author is crying) was spread all messily across his forehead. Cackling lightly, she stowed the stick into her pocket, and while wondering how the heck she had been dragged down here into some stupid arranged marriage, worried about the consequences of this detour she had taken against her will. Reasoning so, all four of the boys' memories were modified as they lay unconscious.

Yeah, okay, so how the hell did this happen? Well, my darling beloveds, this is called a plot hole. It occurs bloody often in fanfictions, and here is no exception. However, the only difference is that here I inserted it knowingly and chose to disclose this information to you shamelessly.

At this time, the little silver laptop zapped itself into the air, rose several hazy inches, then popped into a snake and slithered out the window rather hurriedly. You see, my writing begins and ends with the little silver laptop.

Yes, so right: your reading journey, my young (and pedophile) grasshoppers, begins and ends with the silver laptop as well, consequently, predictably, and obviously. However, the author of this particular fanfiction absolutely begs you not to let this be the very end of your journey. She begs you to end it with a delectable review. You see, she is heartbroken when people care but pretend not to care. Of course, it's even sadder when they really don't care, but, ah, anyway…

She pleads for you to review, basically.

Like, please.

Honestly.