Disclaimer: The wonderful wizarding world and the characters belong to J.K. Rowling. Additionally, there is absolutely nothing wrong with boys doing ballet, it is a perfectly respectable sport, and this story does not try to deny that. (Story requested by a friend.)
The moonlight gleamed off the pond, highlighting the soft ripples made as the swans moved gracefully across the water. A lone figure sat by the edge, occasionally skipping a stone and breaking the comfortable silence that shrouded the light. His name was Harry Potter.
Once he had been a well-known wizard, the defeater of the evil Lord Voldemort. Soon after all that drama, however, he had turned to his true passion, a muggle art called ballet.
Yes, Harry Potter had become a ballerina.
His friends from Hogwarts had been shocked by this – they had expected him to love activities that were more manly, like Quidditch, which had a history of being a largely male dominated sport. Nonetheless, they had supported his decision and had gone for almost all of his concerts so far. Hermione had even gone to the extent of signing up for the ballet classes alongside him but had realised soon after that she did not have the grace for such an art- and she withdrew her application the following day.
Harry had a spectacular talent for ballet, within a year from when he had joined he had excelled to the top of the troupe. However, he still was not satisfied. He envied the natural grace that the swan possessed. He had often wondered if there were a spell to make him more graceful, but so far had not found one.
Despite this, Harry was happy. He had found his true passion and wished to continue dancing for the rest of his life.