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Snow had fallen over Hogwarts for the very first time in 1971, and there was a group of eleven-year-olds that were certainly taking advantage of the chilly weather.
“Race you to the Greenhouses, Evans!”
“You’re so on, Black! You in, Potter?”
“You bet I am!”
“Last one there is a rotten egg!”
“Which will be you, McKinnon!”
They jumped onto their (luckily waterproof) book bags (Flitwick had learned to teach that spell early on in the year, thankfully), and down the hill they went.
Some managed to glide elegantly to a stop right outside the greenhouses, while others fumbled over their own feet and tumbled over one another, but they all came up laughing, one black-haired and bespectacled boy first.
“Ha! Beat that, Sirius!”
“Don’t have to, Evans! James did it for me!”
“Victory! And for my prize, I claim Remus as my Herbology partner!”
“No fair!”
A chuckle that most certainly did not belong to an eleven-year-old interrupted James’ thoughts on what was fair.
“Well, I for one think that was certainly a fair way to win, Mr. Potter, but we’re not working in pairs today. Will one point to Gryffindor suffice, instead?”
A smile overtook his face as he realized the direction his day was heading in.
“Of course, ma’am! Thank you!”
“Now, scurry in, before I have to take that point back for being late!”
The group took that as their cue to disperse into the much warmer greenhouse.
(And if Lily flicked a bit of dirt into Black and Potter’s hair as revenge, well, who was to know?)
***
Snow had covered the grounds of Hogwarts in a lovely blanket of white, and a group of very excited second years could be heard discussing the day’s events at the Gryffindor table.
“Look at that, Black. You’re taller than me this year, and you still lost. I’d just give up now if I was you.”
“Well, luckily, you’re not, Evans. And besides , James still beat you like it was nothing , so does it really matter?”
“Does it really matter in the first place? I mean, didn’t we all have fun?”
“ Of course , we had fun, Marry. And of course , whoever got first place doesn’t really matter. But , as a chaser for the Gryffindor quidditch team, I’d be letting down the team if I didn’t win. And, Professor Sprout gave me another point this year for winning. That’s important.”
“And next year it’ll be even more important when I beat you.”
“In your dreams, Evans. Next year you’ll come in third place , if you even place at all, and will be watching James and I’s hair flying in the wind from behind.”
(Sirius found himself picking mashed potatoes out of his hair for days after that comment, but he still stands by the claim that it was worth it.)
***
“Really, Evans? On my birthday? You’re not even going to let go of the fact that you won on my birthday? That’s just cruel.”
There was a group of Gryffindor third years trailing into the castle, snowflakes tangled in their hair and coats like personal-sized stars. They were all bumbling into each other, a hastily crafted flower crown tossed onto the head of the gangly boy in the front, as if he were the king of the group.
“That is pretty low , especially for you Lily.”
“Well, Remus, if he didn’t want me to pick on him he would win. And he wouldn’t constantly remind me that I still lost to James even with my growth spurt and practice. That’s cruel.”
“Well, Evans, if you’re using that logic then he has every right to pick on you until you beat James.”
“I’d love to agree with you, Remus, but that is nearly impossible seeing as how he learned that new speed increasing spell from his father this summer. I spent the summer listening to Petunia jabber on about how absolutely awful that magic school and that weird Severus kid you hang out with are. Which, by the way, does absolutely nothing to improve my sledding abilities.” Lily cut off with a huff.
Sirius whispered to Remus that, while she might be psychotic, the other Evans sister may have had a point about one thing.
(Lily told Sirius it was a birthday gift that Remus and Pete ended up with Jam in their hair as opposed to Sirius. Sirius thought that the angry letter he received from his parents about being a disappointment was a better gift.)
***
“You know, Black, I don’t even know why you try anymore. Really, it’s just sad . You never beat me, you never will. Isn’t 4 straight years of losing enough?”
“You say that, Evans, but Prongs here still kicks your butt every time, and you’re still going for it. I mean, I may not win, but you don’t either.”
Lily opened her mouth to respond, probably to complain about the inequality of James’ practice as a chaser, or something along those lines, when a peppy voice resonated from behind her.
“And none of you will be considered winners if you’re late to my class. I’d get inside the greenhouse before you lose Gryffindor any points.”
The group of fourteen-year-olds scurried into the warm building, laughing at each other.
“Oh, and Mr. Potter, 5 points for Gryffindor, for an impressive burst of speed there. I swear, you’re getting better year after year,” Professor Sprout said with a wink.
(James shot Lily a wink of his own that she promptly ignored. Or, so he thought, until he found a handful of dirt stuffed into his hat at the end of the lesson.)
***
Five years after the group’s first Hogwarts’ snowfall, and their excitement and focus had hardly changed. The gaggle of fifth years were looking at the white fluff as though it were pure gold, except the two that were more preoccupied yelling at each other.
“I swear I am going to beat you this year, Evans! You don’t stand a chance!”
“Puh-lease, Black. You couldn’t beat that tree stump. And besides, you’re gonna have to try awfully hard to beat me and Potter, since I’m coming in first this year.”
James’ smile lit up his whole face at that comment, and the trouble maker glint that had a tendency to make new professors cry had appeared in his eye.
“Bring it, Evans. I mean, everyone else has just accepted that I’m going to win by this point, I don’t know why you’re still living in denial.”
“I am not living in denial . I will beat you this year, just you wait.”
(Lily, did not, in fact, beat James that year. Sirius did not beat Lily either. No one ended up with anything in their hair, either, but Pete did lose 5 galleons to Mary for betting on Sirius getting second, and Marlene ended up buying Remus a Honeydukes chocolate bar for every Hogsmeade trip left in the year.)
***
“You know, Potter, that I’d give you that mistletoe kiss you asked for if you let me win the race.”
The redhead’s face would have told you in that moment that she had won a hard earned battle, and that no one could take that victory from her.
Until James Potter did just that.
“Oh, I’d love to do that, Lily, but not even a kiss is a worthy enough reason to give up on winning. You’re just going to have to face defeat like every other year.”
Her smug look was tested by that comment, but the glint in her eye spoke volumes of the fact that she would not be deterred.
“Well then, if you’re so confident in your ability to win, How about none of us cast our own sledding charms this year. We’ll have Remus cast them, and see who really is the fastest, without any of the added boosts.”
“I’m game. Pads?”
“Let’s do this.”
(Gryffindor had ten more points at the end of the ordeal, all under the name of James Potter for a beautiful landing and impeccable use of his surroundings. Sirius had ten more hair colors at the end of the ordeal, all under the name of Lily Evans because they were both sore losers.)
***
The first snow of 1977 came rather late in the year, and James had feared it almost wasn’t going to come. He had a reputation to uphold, and points to win. There wasn’t nearly enough positivity left in the world, and he would die before he let their childhood tradition fall apart.
“You know what, Prongs? I think this is the year. I’m going to actually beat Lily.”
James shot his best friend a sympathetic smile as he settled down onto his bed, and placed his hands comfortingly overtop of the other boy’s hands.
“Pads, I love you, I really do, and I will support you, no matter what, but Lily is going to come in second place. And you are going to come in third. And I am going to come in first. And at this point Lily is just going to transform your hair into flowers, honestly, and you’ll manage to somehow pull it off. It’ll be a nice look for Christmas.”
Sirius started to flip off James, but when Remus and Pete’s snorts sounded from across the room he turned it on them.
“You know, I know you’re right, but that still stings, dick.”
“Of course it does. Now, I’m going to go kick my girlfriend’s ass at backpack sledding, she’s going to kick your’s, and Professor Sprout is going to have a nice laugh. It’ll be fun, just like it always is. I still stand by what I said second year. I don’t actually give two shits about winning, I just like upholding tradition.”
Sirius shot his best mate a smile. Not the troublemaker one reserved for pranks, but a small one that said I love the way you think.
(It quickly morphed into the troublemaker one when he ran into Lily in the common room.)
(James was never very good at divination, but for once in his life he made a perfect prediction. Sirius’ daisy hair was the talk of the school for a good two days, and he definitely pulled it off.)
***
Professor Sprout looked out at the Hogwarts’ grounds covered by a blanket of white for the first time in 1981, and felt a bittersweet melancholy at the peaceful sight of a completely blank canvas. There were no backpack tracks, no sounds of laughter, no signs of life. Just endless, glittering, white.
“Congrats, Mr. Potter,” she sighed, “You won one last time. And congrats to you, too, Miss Evans.—or should I call you Mrs. Potter? I guess it doesn’t really matter, but congrats on beating Mr. Black once again.
“15 points to Gryffindor,” she whispered, “for bringing light to a dark place. Thank you.”