Nimmy

All too soon within days September 1st, 1975 finally arrived. Early morning in a large red brick home from the kitchen chimney there are puffs of smoke blowing out as the Potter house elf works in the kitchen. The Potter house elf, Nimmy, had salt-peppered hair, large, bubble-like blue eyes, small bat-like ears, and a long-pointed nose. She looked like the much older, female version of Dobby. And as it should be since she was his much older sister as there was a very rather large age gap between the two of them.

Their parents had been permitted to mate twice by their owners and Dobby and herself had been the product of said consummation. The two of them had been handed over as toddlers to their respective families to the elderly house elf in charge of each said household to train them. She had been lucky to have been purchased by the Potter's, but her younger brother, Dobby had been purchased by the Malfoy's. Malfoy Sr. was rather cruel and often he would punish, Dobby leaving dark bruises and marks on the house elf's body.

Despite it being so, her younger brother sill would visit with her. However, on his last visit during the summer, Dobby not only looked much happier but dressed rather differently too. According to Dobby, Master and Mistress Malfoy had sent him to Hogwarts to be retrained. And though he was still punished at times now, the punishments were much lighter thanks to the new Mistress of the manor. And though Mistress Malfoy is a trifle cold but rather kind in her own manner.

In turn, Nimmy was rather happy for her younger brother, Dobby. Truthfully, her younger brother's birth had been anything short of a miracle. But her parents had been ordered to mate and they had. The conception and birth of Dobby had even been a surprise to her parents. However, they had been so incredibly pleased that they had been able to obey their master's.

Nimmy hummed to herself as she worked, before charming the food to stay warm and begin placing them in the dining room. Master Potter was an older wizard, with wispy unruly hair and sleepy hazel eyes read the Daily Prophet. Master Potter glanced up from the paper and gives Nimmy a pleased grin.

"Ah, how are you this morning, Nimmy?" Fleamont Potter asked his house elf.

"Nimmy is well, Master Potter," Nimmy squeaked happily as the food floated onto the table.

Fleamont Potter happily grabs the descending cup of hot tea out of midair and says, "Thank you, Nimmy."

"Welcome Master Potter," Nimmy cheerfully replied, before popping away back to the kitchens.

A few minutes after, the warmly looking grandmotherly witch with silver hair and toffee-colored eyes enters the dining room patting her hair down. Making sure everything is in its proper place, Euphemia clutches her steaming cup of tea and breathes in the lovely scent, before pouring a bit of milk and cream into her tea. She liked her tea rather sweet and Nimmy tended to make a separate pot especially for her.

Euphemia smiles and says, "Do you think, we'll be rushing like last time, love?"

Fleamont chuckles and says, "I would be greatly surprised if we weren't late. But if he is not up in an hour, I'll go and wake him up myself."

Euphemia sips her tea and lets out a satisfied sound in satisfaction. "Nimmy always makes the best tea around."

"That's because she makes a separate kettle just for you," Fleamont rather good-natured remarked earning him a scowl from his wife of many years.

Euphemia pouts and defensively says, "Well, it's not my fault none of you have good taste."

Fleamont mutters under his breath to himself, "It's not our fault, we don't eat sugar by the spoonful."

They had just begun to eat when to their surprise they hear footsteps and see their soon dart into the dining room. His dark unruly hair did not look as though he had just woken out of bed and had at least run a hairbrush through his hair smooth out the knots. James's bright hazel eyes are solemn as he sits down next to his mother and says, "Good morning, mum and dad. What's the Daily Prophet talking about this morning?"

Fleamont and Euphemia Potter blankly stare at their only son. Not even on their son's first day of his first year had he gotten up on his own without being awakened by someone. That clonk on the head must have really done wonders to him.

Seeing his parents staring at him in surprise, James stopped spreading butter on his toast. "You know, I have been waking rather early ever since the accident," James commented. "I just didn't want to surprise you even more. I'm fine, really."

Fleamont and Euphemia, both nod their heads as James resumes his previous actions, before taking a crunchy bite. Mumbling, he asks again, "So, what did the Daily Prophet have to say this morning?"

"Nothing much just their usual gossip like always," Fleamont answered, before folding the paper in half and putting it away to read for later.

Euphemia happily takes another sip of her tea, before saying, "Do you think you'll be able to handle taking your O.W. L's this year, son?"

"Of course," James flashed them a confident grin that almost seemed like his usual self.

Euphemia warily nods her head and says, "If you can't please just write to us and speak to your Head of House."

"I will mum," James warmly said, before sipping a bit of orange juice.

"Even without you as a chaser, I still think that Gryffindor will again win the cup this year," Fleamont said with a satisfied gleam in his eye.

"I think so too," James flashed a knowing smile.

"Gryffindor's," Euphemia sadly sighed to herself. She had been a Ravenclaw herself, but her son was very much a Gryffindor to the letter tee.

Fleamont happily begins to chat with James about the Quidditch league as both father and son fall into a lively discussion. Euphemia grumbles to herself and turns a deaf ear to their chatter. She had never much liked the sport and especially since her son had been the one playing it on his broom. But alas, boys were boys, and what was a mother to do?