Author's Note: After reading so many great stories from this site I thought I might try and write own of my own. This is my first fanfiction and I hope to make it as good as possible so please give me feedback, good or bad. Thank you Arza and Rweand for inspiring me to write this, and to SerpentsAttire, my beta reader.

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter series and it's characters belong to J.K Rowling. I just play Gumbi.

Acceptance

Chapter 1: The Secret Life of Daydreams

"Pass the butter please, Eloise," said Dorithea Midgen, as she scanned The Daily Prophet absentmindedly, every once in a while taking a small sip from the rose colored teacup held delicately in the tips of her fingers.

Eloise, who had finished her breakfast long ago, looked up from tracing the outline of the elaborately embroidered white lace tablecloth.

"Yes mother," she replied automatically, her monotone voice matching her eyes, the spark in them not having yet been lit so early in the morning.

She lifted the golden plate and extended it out into her mother's uplifted palm. Their hands brushed for a second, but Dorithea did not look up, too absorbed in her world of luxury.

Eloise turned her gaze away from the table, and instead stared out the window onto the perfectly trimmed lawn, lost in thought. 'How ridiculous it is, she mused, that you have to wait for the other to finish eating before leaving. If you have nothing of use to say to each other, why prolong the silence by waiting even longer?' How she longed for Hogwarts! There, there was no one commenting on her every move, no dissapointment and disgust etched across their faces at the mere sight of her. What a tragedy that I have but three years left!

"How fortunate that you have but three more years left of school," declared Mrs. Midgen, drawing Eloise out of her reverie. "It seems as though Dumbledore has finally lost his touch, if not quite as recently as one had originally thought. Just yesterday afternoon during tea I heard from Mrs. Lavish the most appalling news - that three years ago one of the professors at your school was in fact a werewolf! And that Harry Potter – simply dreadful the way he's been behaving. Why one would almost think that-"

But Eloise did not hear what one would almost think, for as soon as the words Harry Potter had reached her ears, everything else seemed to slip out of focus, as if the name itself was so powerful that all things else would just melt into one big meaningless puddle. Harry, Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived, the hero of Gryffindor, the youngest seeker in a century.

He was good looking, no doubt about that, but there was something… something more… It was his personality more then anything that she was so attracted to. She had known countless examples of kids who, once having gotten their fifteen minutes of fame, not only looked down upon others, but expected them to bow down as well. She assumed he would be just the same, if not more so. Instead of being arrogant and self righteous he was shy, avoiding at all costs being called a martyr.

She even now still remembered the first day they had met, the memory locked away deep down in the depths of her mind, taken only out carefully every once in a while, as if she was afraid it would disintegrate at her mere touch, like a dried out rose.

She had been walking, no, staggering more likely, under the amount of books stuffed in her book bag. She was late to history, and her friends hadn't bothered to wait for her when she had stopped at the bathroom to wash the ink that had spilled from the bottle off her hands.

Turning around she had stared hopelessly at the seemingly endless doors, and the staircases above them. It was her first day and she would be late to class. So much for making a good impression. And she had tried so hard, picking her clothes out the day before, trying to follow along with the endless chatter of the other girls. She had known that going to school would be a big change, but she had vowed that she would try as hard as she could to fit in. But they had seen right through her, the other high class girls. They had known just by looking at her plump figure, the pink butterfly clips in her curly brown hair, the absence of glamour charms from her face that she wasn't one of them, no matter what family or class she came from.

Suddenly it seemed vital to get to class on time. If she didn't she would never forgive herself, and the guilt of not making an effort would forever haunt her. If she didn't fit in she didn't want it to be because she hadn't tried hard enough, it would be because she just wasn't born to be one of them.

With revived determination she set off again, now carrying her bag in both arms instead of slung over her back. Her entire concentration was focused on walking, walking, walking, until she found a portrait on the wall that she could recognize from when she had passed the history classroom earlier that day after breakfast. One, two, three, steps she counted, the rhythmic sound of her heels echoed against the stone floor oddly comforting.

She was so absorbed in counting her steps that she didn't notice a slightly uneven stone protruding from the surface. The top of her shoe catching the crevice underneath the rock she tripped, book bag and all flying in the air and landing on the cold floor with a loud thump.

Laying on the floor, Eloise closed her eyes, feeling her self esteem and optimism falling out of sight down a bottomless pit. Who was she kidding anyway? There was no way she could do this, she was ugly, fat and unsociable. Tears threatened to break way. 'Don't cry!' she pleaded to herself. 'Please don't start crying, Eloise. Don't be a baby.'

"Errrr... are you okay?"

The voice was hesitant, quiet, barely above a whisper. She looked up to see a thin boy fidgeting with the cuffs of his long black sleeves. He was her age with messy black hair, his glasses slightly lopsided on the edge of his small nose. But it was his eyes that drew her in the most, bright emerald green eyes, staring shyly back into hers.

He reached out his hand, pulling her upwards, steadying her on her feet as she swayed slightly, her heart pounding wildly.

"Are you alright?" he repeated again, looking at her with concern as he bent down to pick up her fallen books that lay scattered across the corridor floor.

She nodded now, timidly, her mind having finally caught up with her heart. He stood up, his arms full of her books, Eloise grabbed her bag and immediately hastened to share the burden, almost afraid that his frail figure would topple over like she had under the weight.

"Yes... yes, I'm fine," she mumbled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear self consciously.

She looked at the ground, anywhere, anywhere, but his face.

"Umm... do you know where transfiguration is?" he asked.

She looked up, meeting his eyes once more.

"Uhh yes, I think I do. It was... by the portrait of the toad and the lizard."

He sighed and smiled a small smile. "Thanks. You... you trying to find a class too?"

At the sight of his smile, Eloise found she couldn't speak. Her mouth seemed unwilling to connect with her mind. 'Talk you idiot! Say something!'

"Umm... no. I mean yes. I can't find History of Magic."

He pointed down the hallway in the opposite direction. "Just down to the left."

It was her turn to smile, and she did, though there were so many books in her hands that she wasn't sure he could see.

"Well... I'll see you around then."

"You... you too."

And he left, his thin form growing smaller and smaller. She watched him, motionless until he had disappeared completely.

She walked into the classroom, still slightly lightheaded from their encounter. Slowly but surely she glided across the floor, a faint smile upon her lips, her mind still back in the hallway replaying the scenario over and over again like a broken record.

The girls watched her, bewildered by the sudden change. Some snickered rudely as she passed, but if she either cared or noticed she did not show it, but confidently slid into her seat with grace, completely oblivious to Rebecca 's stare or Anne's hushed whispers.

"Eloise?"

"Eloise? Are you listening to a word I'm saying?"

She blinked, surprised for a second to see herself surrounded by spotless white walls instead of stone ones.

"Yes Ann-, I mean mother," she said, shaking herself, removing her fist from underneath her chin, and turning her focus on Dorithea's imposing figure sitting perfectly straight and finishing slowly the last of her raspberry scone.

"For heavens sake sit up straighter, you're beginning to look like the Hunchback of Notre Dame," her mother reprimanded.

'Do not roll your eyes. Don't even think about it. Just do it'. She struggled against the hard frame of the wooden chair and managed to align her back with it, though not without wincing.

Dorithea opened her mouth as if to start on another lecture, but then closed her eyes and leaned back into her chair, looking suddenly tired and as bored as Eloise was.

"You may be excused. Be here for dinner at 7:30 sharp."

Carefully she stood up and pulled in her chair, trying to make as little sound as possible. Then, keeping her shoulders back and her neck arched she tried her best to float across the dining room like her mother so often, wincing when she instead stumbled slightly on the way out.

Once outside her body relaxed and she greedily took great gulps from the fresh air. The sun hit her light blue navy robe and the warmth enveloped her like a big bubble, the heat crawling up her arms and then resting lightly on her fingertips. She shivered slightly and continued walking, enjoying the sensation of the wind playing with her hair, a cooling breeze. The sweet sound of birds from overhead contrasted nicely with the hustle of the leaves from the branches of many trees. Early morning light broke it's rays through the mist, promising another perfect summer day.

Heading towards the pond Eloise gratefully sat down in the shade of her favorite willow tree, leaning against the firm and strong trunk. The smoke from the kitchen chimneys drifted towards the pond where it tangled gently to blend in with tendrils of white mist hanging in the willow branches.

Closing her eyes, she slipped back into the past once more.

Hogwarts was by all means not a small school and for a what seemed like a long time she searched for him. At dinner she looked down the tables, not noticing that he was but a few seats away between Ron and Hermione. In between classes she would sit down at one of the benches in the hallways pretending to read, but looking up whenever someone passed by, trying to find the face of the small shy boy, not knowing that he avoided the hallways like the plague where he would constantly be stared at and followed by whispers.

Finally a week later she found him, walking with Jasmine Ashe across the grounds in the early afternoon during break.

As they walked further and further down the hill to Herbology class the number of students thinned out, giving way to nothing but pleasant silence.

When they were but a few steps from the greenhouses Jasmine let out a small gasp, her gaze fastened on something on the top of the hill.

"Eloise! There's Harry Potter!" she squealed in delight. "And he's practically alone, except for some other guy! Here is our chance to meet a celebrity! Come on while there's still time!"

"Uhh..." She had never been very comfortable talking or even being in the presence of boys. You always had the pressure on you to say something funny or cool, something at which she had never succeeded at. She didn't like the way they acted either, all that loud talking about pounding on each other, they practically screamed for attention. The mere idea of actually wanting to spend time with them was completely alien to her.

Jasmine however, was completely deaf to her lack of enthusiasm. Pulling her arm, she yanked her towards the direction of the two boys.

"No! Please, Jasmine! It would be much better if you went and talked to them, and I stay right here."

"For Merlin's sake Eloise, they aren't going to rip your head off or anything!" said Jasmine, exasperated, still pulling her up to the hill, her hand holding firmly to her arm.

They reached the top, and found themselves in a small clearing. The two boys were talking, the red head was waving his hands about as if to demonstrate something to the other boy. He was shorter, with black hair and... glasses?

"That's Harry Potter? The one with black hair?!" she said, dumbstruck.

Jasmine looked at her. "Of course it is! Haven't you seen him before?"

"I... I just remembered! I have to go and get my quill, I lent it to Rebecca!"

"Can't you at least wait for one second?" Jasmine said, torn between meeting Harry and being left alone.

"I'll be late if I don't hurry up!" she yelled, already half way down the hill. "I'll talk to you later!"

"Damn right you will!" she yelled back at her.

And so it was that she found out who he was. At first she was confused. Surely, surely that couldn't be him! Harry Potter, the celebrity, helping her, Eloise Midgen, pick up her books? It didn't seem possible.

But as the next few weeks went by, she observed that Harry Potter was indeed nice but shy, helpful, with good manners. So, it came to be. Harry Potter, her first crush. She never spoke to him forever avoiding any possible encounter. What if she made a mistake, made a fool of herself in front of him? Better to not to exist, then to exist as an embarrassing memory of something she'd done.

"Hello Miss! Fine day it is, isn't it?"

She looked up into the beaming smile of Ben the gardener.

Lifting her hand to shield her eyes from the sun, she smiled back at him.

"It is a beautiful day. Just as you predicted. How do you do it?"

He took a piece of bread from his pocket and began throwing it to the swans in the lake. "Well, me dad taught me all I know. Whenever there is a cool breeze, when the grasshoppers and buzzing bees are content, when the birds sing, all is well.

Ripping apart the last piece of bread and throwing it to the clamoring swans, he turned back to her. "Before I forget, here's the morning paper. Your mom just finished reading it."

She took the roll and unraveled it. "Thank you Ben. Thank you very much."

Ben stretched, and tipped his hat to her. "Enjoy the summer while you can, miss. I must be off to tend to those poinsettias, they are always going off and dying on me."

Whistling a tune she didn't recognize he was off again, a slight spring to his walk.

She glanced back down at the paper, the familiar bold letters, "The Daily Prophet" displayed at the top. On the front page was a photograph that she had seen numerous times when she was kid, a picture of Albus Dumbledore.

The End of Albus Dumbledore?

Albus Dumbledore was once one the most brilliant and sought out person of our time. But have the many long years as headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry proved to be too much for one man? Just yesterday he has been been voted out of Chairmanship of the International Confederation of Wizards and last month was demoted from Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot. Even now there are rumors that he may not return to Hogwarts and instead retire. "The Ministry has been growing uneasy about goings-on at Hogwarts for some time,' said Junior Assistant to the Minister, Percy Weasley. "We feel that it may be the right time for him to step down and make way for a new headmaster that the Ministry should find appropriate and select."

Dumbledore's speech on He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was met by many cries of outrage in the wizarding community. He insists that Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic should recognize his return and immediately 'remove Azkaban from the control of the Dementors' despite the fact that Dementors have guarded the prison for decades without incident and that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has been dead for fifteen years.

Meanwhile Harry James Potter who believes to have seen He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named return has been reported to having headaches, nightmares, and hallucinations during school. Whether these are just attention seeking signs or evidence to mental instability many parents of students at Hogwarts are becoming increasingly uneasy about their children's welfare if Mr. Potter will be attending the school this year. "Many of us with our children's best interests at heart have been concerned about Potter attending Hogwarts," said Lucius Malfoy, 41, speaking from his Wiltshire mansion last night. "I would feel much easier in my mind if Potter withdrew and instead had private education away from the other students."

(For more on Albus Dumbledore's demotion from office, please turn to page 17)

Eloise finished reading and looked up across the lake, lost in thought. It all seemed so improbable. Yes, it had been extremely unsettling when Harry had gotten back from the maze clutching Cedric's dead body, and when he had talked to that snake in second year, but she knew he wouldn't do all that for attention. He just wasn't that sort of person. He had had plenty of times to make himself more known or popular and had bypassed all of them. He could be mentally unstable she reasoned, maybe after everything he's gone through over the years, but the fact that he would be a danger to other students was completely absurd.

As for Dumbledore speech at the end of school on You-Know-Who return, well, it had just seemed so... unreal. You-Know-Who didn't really even represent to her a person, but more of a symbol of fear, or a monster that parents told their children about in order for them to do as they were told.

But what if he was back? No one had ever been clear on how he died, it had been just been announced one day in the paper. Was a little baby, even it was Harry Potter, really enough to kill such a powerful being? And if anyone should know, shouldn't it be Dumbledore, who had fought both Grindelwald and You-Know-Who?

Whatever the answers to these questions were, she knew she would not find them in the paper. There was only one place to find them, and she would be there by next week along with all the witches and wizards of Britain.

A/N: Eloise's mother Dorithea is modeled after Daisy in The Great Gatsby. I imagine the house they live in to look like Pemberley from Pride and Prejudice.