The Yule Ball did not arrive quietly.
It arrived in a storm of speculation.
For days after Dumbledore's announcement, Hogwarts existed in a state of collective agitation. The corridors hummed with half-whispered strategies and open debates; parchment lists appeared and vanished from notice boards; friendships were strained, alliances tested, courage summoned and squandered in equal measure.
Harry watched it all with a detached sort of fondness.
He remembered celebrations that were not about spectacle, gatherings beneath starlit canopies where dance was prayer and laughter was remembrance, but there was something endearing about this too. The awkwardness. The hope. The way everyone pretended not to care far more than they actually did.
Ginny Weasley cared.
Harry noticed the way she avoided his eyes after the announcement, cheeks faintly pink whenever his name came up in conversation. He noticed, too, how she squared her shoulders when she laughed, as if daring the world to underestimate her.
It reminded him of Neytiri, just a little, fire held carefully in check.
He found Ginny one afternoon by the fire in the common room, pretending very hard to be absorbed in a book she had not turned the page of in several minutes.
"Ginny," he said.
She looked up too quickly. "Yes?"
Harry hesitated.
That, perhaps, was the strangest thing of all. He had faced dragons, war machines, the fury of a living god-forest, and yet this felt like stepping onto uncertain ground without a weapon.
"Would you," he said slowly, "go to the Yule Ball with me?"
For a heartbeat, the world went very quiet.
Then Ginny smiled.
It was not shy. It was not restrained. It was bright and fierce and utterly certain.
"I'd like that," she said.
Harry felt something warm settle into place in his chest. "Good."
Across the room, Ron gaped.
Hermione smiled into her teacup.
Neville's attempt came two days later.
Harry happened to be passing the greenhouses when he overheard it, Neville's voice trembling but resolute, Hannah Abbott's surprised gasp, the pause that felt like it might swallow him whole.
Then Hannah laughed softly.
"Yes," she said. "I'd love to."
Neville's answering smile could have lit the grounds without magic.
Harry clapped him on the shoulder as Neville stumbled past afterward, still dazed. "Well done."
Neville straightened a little. "I... I thought she might say no."
"She didn't," Harry replied. "That's what matters."
Neville nodded, taking that to heart.
Dumbledore summoned Harry the following evening.
This time, there was no Pensieve waiting, only tea, a crackling fire, and a folded document resting atop the Headmaster's desk.
"I have been in correspondence with the International Confederation of Wizards," Dumbledore said, pouring. "Specifically, the Animagi Registry Oversight Council."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "That sounds… ominous."
Dumbledore smiled faintly. "The Ministry of Magic would make it so. Fortunately, they have been overruled."
He slid the parchment across the desk. The seal was unfamiliar, ancient, intricate, far older than the Ministry's emblem.
"The ICW has agreed," Dumbledore continued, "that your Animagus form constitutes a unique case. Extra-dimensional magical exposure, non-terrestrial spiritual imprinting… in short, the Ministry does not possess the authority to define you."
Harry read the words twice.
"They're… vetoing the Ministry?" he asked.
"In this matter," Dumbledore said gently, "yes. Your registration will be held at the international level. Protected. Classified."
Harry exhaled slowly. He had not realized how tightly wound he had been until that moment.
"Thank you," he said.
"You have earned that protection," Dumbledore replied. "Now, shall we make it official?"
The registration itself was quiet.
A controlled transformation in a warded chamber. Magical signatures recorded without judgment or spectacle. Harry stood tall in his Na'vi form as the magic traced him, acknowledging, not owning, what he was.
For once, the world bent correctly around him.
Christmas morning dawned beneath a sky heavy with snow.
Harry woke to laughter, the dormitory already alive with the sound of tearing paper and mock outrage. He opened his own presents slowly, jumpers from Mrs. Weasley, Hermione's carefully chosen books, Ron's lopsided attempt at something sentimental disguised as a joke.
From Sirius and Remus came something else entirely: a carved pendant of dark wood, warm to the touch, etched with a symbol that felt familiar in his bones. Not Na'vi. Not wizarding.
Family, it seemed to say.
After lunch, someone, Fred, most likely, suggested a snowball fight.
The grounds became chaos.
Harry lasted precisely three minutes before instinct took over.
He slipped away behind a stand of trees and transformed.
The snow became a different battlefield entirely.
He moved without sound, tracking by disturbance rather than sight, using height and reach to his advantage. Snowballs struck with uncanny accuracy. Opponents vanished beneath drifts without ever seeing him coming.
When it was over, Harry stood atop a small hill, blue-skinned and grinning, surrounded by groaning, snow-dusted victims.
"Unfair," Ron accused weakly.
Harry only laughed.
That evening, Gryffindor Tower buzzed with nervous energy.
The boys' dormitory was thick with steam and banter as they struggled into dress robes. Seamus offered commentary. Dean attempted styling advice. Neville adjusted his cuffs with shaking hands.
Ron stared at himself in the mirror, stricken. "I look ridiculous."
"You look like you're about to attend a formal event," Harry said mildly.
"That's worse."
Seamus grinned. "Relax, mate. Worst case, you trip and become legendary."
Ron groaned.
Harry fastened his own cuffs with steady hands, catching his reflection, older eyes in a young face, calm beneath anticipation. He thought of the dances beneath glowing trees, of chosen steps and shared rhythm.
Tonight would be different.
But different did not mean lesser.
As the dormitory door swung open and the sound of music drifted faintly upward, Harry felt ready.
For once, the night held promise rather than prophecy.
And he stepped forward to meet it.