“No,” said Lucius, realizing where he had ended up. “We can’t go here.” He stared at the tall, lopsided contraption that was a house. It seemed to lean to one side, and then to the other, oddly contorting; it looked as though it were about to fall over.
“Why not, Lucius? What can possibly be so wrong?” asked Voldemort, as a sarcastic smile lit his face. Lucius only glared at him, and his expression alone answered Voldemort’s question.
“My Lord,” he began, but Voldemort interrupted.
“Please, Lucius - call me Tom.” Lucius had noticed an odd side of Voldemort, but never had he expected Voldemort to say “call me Tom!” as if they were best friends, even acquaintances. Lucius had always been his little puppy, following him everywhere, doing what he asked. Never had expected, no matter how odd the situation got, Voldemort to look at him as an equal.
Though it was kind of Voldemort to offer, Lucius decided that he would try to avoid addressing the Dark Lord by his name. That would be too awkward for his taste.
“Come inside,” Voldemort said, swinging open the door to the Burrow. With a soft moan and a drop of his shoulders, Lucius grudgingly walked inside. He knew this could not be good.
Much to his despair, he saw eight red heads and freckles galore. They were all sitting ‘round the table eating what looked like (though Lucius did not want to admit it, even to himself) a fabulous meal. He almost wanted to sit down at the table and join them. He did notice that there were no empty chairs, something he had not expected. There were only eight chairs, and he had expected there would be nine, but the extra one would be left empty.
”You’ve spied it already, Lucius, I can tell. They got rid of the chair; they didn’t want it to ruin their Christmas. They got rid of the chair, the memory. That’s not something you’ve done. You sit on your chair of gloom all day. You refuse to get off. Why, it wouldn’t be much of an effort to get off your chair, now would it?” Voldemort asked. Lucius knew that he was right, or at least that his theory had some amount of logic behind it.
“Let’s go upstairs,” said Voldemort. “We have more to see.” Together, they walked up the makeshift staircase, happy that it the Weasley family didn’t have to hear it creaking.
They came to a room, it looked like a bedroom, and Voldemort quietly pushed open the door. As his hand lay on the door, Lucius was taken aback as he noticed that it was no longer snakelike, but a real hand. In fact, now that Lucius snuck a quick look at his face, it looked … normal. Lucius had tried to avoid eye contact, for he still slightly feared Voldemort and was baffled by his sudden change in character, but now that he did look at him he noticed that he really had changed. Not just on the inside, either.
It was a warm little room, with a bed and some cheap looking furniture. A few things hung on the walls: a Gryffindor flag, an advertisement for a shop called “Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes,” and a picture of two boys, both identical, smiling and laughing next to each other.
“You see?” said Voldemort. “George took out the bed, but he kept a picture - not just any picture, but a happy memory. He can always look up at his wall and remember happier times. Aren’t you taking an example for any of this, Lucius?”
“I’m afraid I don’t have a camera on me every time something good happens,” Lucius said sourly.
“You don’t have to!” Voldemort said. “It’s all in your mind; they’re memories, even better preserved than a picture may be! Your only problem is that you’ve locked them all up and prepared to never see them again! This is where you go wrong, Lucius. Open up those memories; you know they’re in there,” Voldemort said, and his voice became soft.
“What if I don’t want to?” asked Lucius. “What if I don’t want to go back? There’s nothing I can do about the situation I’m in, so why would I taunt myself? Answer me this: do you have any happy memories stored in the back of your brain?” Lucius stopped and breathed heavily. Voldemort’s eyes widened.
“No, I don’t,” he said. “They were there, but I released them. I set them free. Even I had some happy memories. “
“Even so, why should I say to myself, ‘I had happier times. Let’s relive them so I can feel that much worse about my predicament right now. Let’s remember my cheerful moments in life as I regret what I did and think about how wrong I am.’ What good does that do me? Why is it better to feel badly about where I’m at now? Why can’t I just try and make the best of it?” asked Lucius, his temper rising.
“If you do, if you do think about how bad your situation is, then you will work to make it better! You will be determined to fix things! And remembering the cheerful moments, and the drive to fix yourself with push you off the chair, and make you hang that photograph on your wall. Lucius, I wouldn’t have come here without a good reason. You’re just determined not to believe me, and I don’t know why,” said Voldemort.
“You don’t know why? You don’t know why I am suspicious of believing you when the darkest wizard of all time showed up at my house and told me to unleash my happy memories? Does that make sense to you? Do you think I can believe you just because you say so? If you still think you are the most powerful thing in this world, you are quite mistaken. There are lots of people greater than you.”
“Exactly, Lucius! Exactly! This is the way you should be thinking! Forget the Battle; forget that you ever served me! Now that the Battle is over, you should be willing to start over, just as I have. You should take my visit here as an opportunity, not an oddity. Welcome me, embrace me, for things have changed at last!” Voldemort said, throwing his hands up into the air as if rejoicing. “Rejoice for the brand new day!” he added, repressing the urge to dance around the room.
“It’s not that easy!” cried Lucius. “You don’t understand!” Voldemort stopped rejoicing.
“I don’t understand, do I? I, the one the whole Battle was fought over, don’t understand that it’s not easy to rejoice? I, the one so feared, the one that’s dead, don’t understand that you can’t just forgive and forget? I, the one who did so much wrong, don’t understand that life goes on? Think about it, Lucius! Is it easier for me or you to move on? You! And who did? I did! It is not that hard, I promise you Lucius. Would you give it a try? Would you try to move on?” Voldemort asked.
Lucius tried to think of some way to rebuttal, but he could not. What indeed would be the harm in trying? There was no way he could end up worse off than he was already. He instead pretended to be extremely impatient and upset, as if his point were too obvious and right to miss. He began to walk out the door. Voldemort sighed and followed.
They silently walked down the steps and observed the Weasley family still managing to enjoy their Christmas Eve.
“They lost so much,” Voldemort whispered to Lucius. “They were scarred for life. They could move on; why not you?” His voice wafted over to Lucius’s ear, as if nothing but the wind.
In his head, Lucius answered silently. I don’t know, he thought. I don’t know. Was it really worth giving a try? But if, perhaps, he did try and move on, it would be a sign of weakness. He would have just agreed to Voldemort, just because of his power. He did not want to be weak. He did not want to simply give in. But Voldemort wasn’t here for his own good … was he?
They walked out the door of the Burrow and were quickly welcomed by a sharp embrace of the cold winter wind. Snowflakes drifted through the air; gliding in the breeze. They landed softly on the ground, just coating the grass. Lucius could not help but have his eyes follow one’s path, from way up high down to the blanket of grass and fellow flakes.
“What will happen,” Lucius asked, “if I don’t try and move on? Will I regret it? Will I wish I did?” Voldemort smiled.
“You already should regret it, Lucius. But to answer you, yes you will regret it. Yes, you will wish you did move on. It’s what I’ve been telling you for some time now. I’m pleased to see you’re catching on.”
“Can you show me?” Lucius asked. “Can you show me what I’ll be if I don’t move on?”
“I suppose if it will help you to do the right thing,” Voldemort said, “then yes.”