Winter
December 5th, 1971
The weeks following the prank flew by in a flurry of classes, Quidditch practices, and late-night plotting sessions in the Gryffindor common room. November gave way to December, and Hogwarts transformed into a winter wonderland. Snow blanketed the grounds, the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall reflected swirling snowflakes, and the students were buzzing with anticipation for the upcoming holidays.
For the Marauders, life had settled into an odd rhythm of chaos and camaraderie. Snape had made no move to retaliate since the prank, but Remus had a sinking feeling the boy was merely biding his time.
One afternoon, after an exhausting Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, James burst into the common room, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
“Snowball fight. Right now. Everyone out!” he declared, tossing his bag onto the floor.
“James, it’s freezing outside,” Remus said, barely looking up from his Transfiguration essay.
“Don’t care. You’re coming,” James said, yanking Remus’s chair out from under him.
Sirius grinned. “Oh, this is going to be epic.”
Before long, most of Gryffindor house was outside, bundled in scarves and gloves, waging an all-out snowball war. The Marauders quickly became the generals of their respective teams, with Sirius and James leading one side against Remus and Peter on the other.
“Traitor!” Sirius shouted at Remus as a snowball collided with his head.
“Strategist,” Remus shot back, dodging another incoming missile.
The battle lasted until dinner, ending only when Peter accidentally lobbed a snowball at McGonagall, who had been watching from the castle steps.
December 6th, 1971
The next morning, the castle was abuzz with news of the upcoming Yule Dance, a tradition for fourth years and above, but younger students were welcome to attend if invited.
“Like we’re really going to waste our time on some silly dance,” Sirius scoffed as they read the announcement on the notice board.
“You just don’t want to admit you can’t dance,” Remus teased, earning a glare from Sirius.
“Who needs dancing when you’ve got charm?” Sirius retorted, flashing an exaggerated grin.
“You’ve got something, all right,” James muttered, earning a laugh from Peter.
The boys spent the rest of the day speculating about who might go with whom, with James growing increasingly distracted every time Lily Evans walked by.
“You’re hopeless,” Sirius told him, shaking his head.
“And you’re a coward,” James shot back. “When was the last time you asked anyone to anything?”
“That’s different,” Sirius replied, but didn’t elaborate.
December 10th, 1971
As the holidays approached, however, trouble began to brew beneath the surface. Slytherin students seemed more hostile than usual, whispering in hushed tones whenever the Marauders walked by. Snape’s glares grew colder, and there were rumors of brewing tensions among the older students, particularly those with ties to dark wizarding families.
One night, as the boys sat near the fire, Sirius spoke up.
“I heard Bellatrix talking about some group last summer. A secret society of pure-blood fanatics.”
“Death Eaters,” Remus murmured, the term sounding foreign and sinister on his tongue.
James frowned. “Why would anyone follow that rubbish?”
“Power,” Sirius said simply. “Fear. A lot of pure-blood families are buying into it.”
“And your family?” Peter asked hesitantly.
Sirius’s jaw tightened. “Not me,” he said firmly. “Never me.”
The conversation lingered in the air, heavy and unresolved, as the fire crackled in the hearth.
December 12th, 1971
Despite the underlying tension, the Marauders did their best to keep the mood light. They decorated their dormitory with enchanted tinsel, charmed Sirius’s record player to play Christmas carols, and plotted new ways to outdo each other in the snowball fights.
The Yule Ball was the 15th, the last day of school before the holidays. The group of Marauders were still hopelessly lacking dates.