Author's note: So, if you've read my other story, this is in a different parallel universe! But the characters are the same from the other one. Sorry for the confusion. This one starts around when Harry and Hermione visit Godric's Hollow.

"I have a gift for you." Lord Voldemort's bone-smooth fingers held a small, deathly pale package in them. Silwen shook softly as she eyed the thing. "I got you a gift, little Slytherin. Aren't you going to say thank you?" Looking up, she didn't bother to mask her fear on her face behind a wall.

"I cannot lie, my Lord." Eyes narrowing, he deposited the package on her bed. Then he flicked his wand at her immobilized arms and allowed them to move.

"Open it," he hissed, a smile leering on his lips-a smile sharper and crueler than a poingard. Dry, cracked, and trembling fingers undid the string and then ripped open the wrapping parchment as silently as she could. A small silver locket slipped onto her withered dress. No, it wasn't Slytherin's locket. It was a trinket; possibly made out of silver, but nothing more than a trinket-nothing of monetary value.

"Look inside, Miss Greengrass."

With fumbling fingers, she opened the locket's latch and stared. A picture of...of her Uncle Snape. Then another one. Draco. And lastly, a crumpled photo of her parents. Alive and well-happily oblivious to their impeding demise, now a distant memory of Silwen's. With a snap, she closed the locket with the pictures inside.

"I thought perhaps you needed to be reminded of the people you are protecting. You will go through with my plans, Silwen," he whispered in his voice colder than apathy.

"I-I..." she began, then stopped. This time, she forced her face into a mask completely void of any emotion. His hands smoother than a new-born child's skin took hers in his, and he stared with mocking eyes into her eyes. With every fiber she possessed, she made herself remain immobile, and fixed her eyes on the locket. Viciously jabbing his wand at her, Voldemort forced her back into a ramrod position, and froze her arms in her lap. She was petrified, and for the first time since she had "arrived" here, not of her choice.

"You will not fail me. Your uncle and Draco are downstairs, with Bellatrix keeping them company." Feigning sympathy, the Dark Lord took of the Petrification spell on her head, allowing it to move, and reached over to stroke her face with a long, delicate finger, laughing lightly at the minuscule tremble that struggled to escape her flawless composure. "If anything goes wrong, neither of them will survive." He leaned in, his crimson eyes right beside her ear. Inhaling, he played with a lock of her midnight hair. "You understand this, don't you, Silwen? But of course you do. You are my once Severus Snape's niece." With the awful proximity between her and Lord Voldemort, she could not stop a whimper fleeing from her parched lips, and a tear from her right eye.

However, she nodded. Yes, she understood. Yes, she knew the consequences of both outcomes. The question was, which one would she choose?

"All I want is the Elder Wand, resting with Dumbledore in his tomb. Bring it to me, and spare the lives of those you love. Failing to do so will bring their deaths, and make you my little shadow until your last living breath," whispered Voldemort, lips brushing Silwen's earlobe. Silwen's eyes closed and another frightened tear skidded down her cheek. Suddenly, the imprisoning her feet to the wall with only a meter to spare didn't feel so glacial compared to his touch.

"With this wand, I will finally have control. All you have to do is fetch it, little Slytherin. Fetch it and set your family free while enslaving the rest of wizardkind. Perhaps even the entire Malfoy family if I feel generous enough, and if you are quick enough."

"How long do I have to choose?" asked Silwen, her voice creaking like a rusty door in want of oil, after a moment of attempting to remember how to breathe.

"I will give you two hours to inform me of your choice." "Can I visit my uncle and friend?"

"If you come to a decision in an hour, I will give you the second hour to say goodbye."

"And if don't have a decision by the second hour?"

The Dark Lord's eyes raked her face. "Then I'll send someone up to...persuade you and give you an incentive to make up your mind within the next few minutes." Smoothly, Voldemort rose, lifted his spell over Silwen, and moved walked to the door.

"Why me? Why can't you obtain what you want by going yourself or by sending a Death Eater?" A high, humorless, frigid laugh ricocheted around the room, making the girl jump.

"Where is the amusement in that, little Slytherin? Why not coerce one of my ex-follower's family into aiding with the destruction of her world?"

An spontaneous feeling of fury flamed inside of Silwen when she heard what her purpose was. "Amusement? That's all I'm fit for? The Dark Lord's amusement?" Hysteria rose as Silwen went on, even though her voice remained in a whisper.

"Of course. ... That's all anyone is fit for. It couldn't be because of my casting ability, or because of my prodigious potion-brewing ability. Oh no, I'm chosen simply to let V-voldemort have his–his chuckle!"

Bored, Voldemort replied, "I will return in an hour and if you do not have an answer to my request, I will get an answer from you myself!" Slamming the door behind him, Voldemort strode out of the room.

Now alone, Silwen's tears didn't merely come one by one, but by ponds and ponds full.

Her family or her world? Which would be worse to loose? Which one could she afford? Unbidden, Harry popped into her mind. Of course, he'd choose to save the world–his friends would not let him choose them. Would Uncle Snape and Draco let her choose them? No. But she couldn't live without them. She'd die first.