Hinky the House elf was truly not like all the other house elves. Although crafty, he always needed

Hinky the House elf was truly not like all the other house elves. Although crafty, he always needed to be reminded to help out his Mistress, and, although young and healthy, he did not wish to carry out the simplest tasks: cleaning the mansion or preparing five course meals without punishment. Even then, he dared to speak against his Mistress under his nose, and once or twice was caught stealing his Masters’ possessions. The Mistress suspected he might have had some goblin blood in him - how else would you explain such behavior? The Master blamed modern morals and the tolerance propaganda that even House Elves seemed to have picked up. Unimaginable, even the Daily Prophet thinks it is acceptable for purebloods to marry muggles!Now, he heard, they dared to wish to be represented in the Ministry, and what came next? House elves wanting their own department? What a truly terrifying age to live in.But Hinky did not wish for a Ministry department. He did not like listening to politics or reading newspapers, and, frankly, he didn’t even like other house elves that much. He did like buttons. Those were his favorite. Watching the youngest Mistress sew those pearls on her gown was his most favorite pastime (until she would notice it, of course: no one would enjoy burning candles thrown at them).One day the Mistress had a particularly bad day. Some half-blood infant was rumored to had defeated the Dark Lord, and the war was lost. Traitors and mudbloods usurped power and now began arresting those of noble families, as though they were common criminals. And because she could never have a break, not even in the comfort of her own mansion, the tea Hinky served her was cold and not sweet enough. That’s when she finally snapped. “You like buttons so much, yes? Well here you go! Take it! Take it all!” she screamed as she threw her robes right into Hinky’s hands.She regretted it a second later, of course, but Hinky was long gone by then. He didn’t have friends at Hogwarts, and didn’t know that he could ask for a job. He didn’t know where to go, and after a month of wandering around forests and wizard towns found himself a nice tree not far from Hogsmeade, and built himself a house there. He’d sneak up into Hogsmeade at night and find pieces of cloth, and after a while mastered the skill of sewing.And thus he lived alone for thirteen years to come, not knowing what was going on in the world, not coming across any other elves, and not even craving company, until one day, whilst stealing some nice cloth wizards used to cover their food, he overheard a couple of them talking about a boy named Harry Potter and how he’d freed a House elf named Dobby, and how Lucius Malfoy was furious and they’d all had a good laugh. It didn’t take Hinky long to track down Dobby. He didn’t like what he had to say, and did not wish to continue the acquaintance, and did not shed a tear when he heard of Dobby’s demise. He did like Dobby’s sweater, though, and the collection of socks. After yet another war ended, and, to the horror of Hinky’s ex-Mistress, the purebloods en masse began to free their House Elves to prove their good faith, Hinky decided that his time had finally come. The rumor of a marvelous free elf who lived in the woods and sewed amazing clothes spread like a wildfire. One after the other the elves of Hogwarts came to Hinky, willing to pay for sweaters and socks their own size. Some even eyed Hinky’s intricate hats and - oh dear - shoes! And as they were all getting paid, so Hinky came into familiarity with Wizarding money. “Oh no, a hat with this many buttons?” he would say. ”At least nine knuts, this is!”After some consideration, he decided he was a legitimate businessman now, and did not need to steal anymore. He put up a nice sign on his door, prepared a catalogue, and even hired another elf to fetch him cloth and threads. And as the time passed, he seemed to have forgotten all about his Mistress, and the years he spent alone in the woods, and how he’d tried to sew for the first time, with frozen fingers and a twig instead of a needle. But then, every year a sock embellished with buttons would appear on Dobby’s grave. A gift, from one free elf to another.(written and submitted by punkdraco. This is marvelous. Punkdraco imbues this with the spirit of canon while still striking out from the confines of the books, by affording dignity, cleverness, and ingenuity to members of the wizarding world often overlooked. The result is touching and brilliant, a wonderful story.) -- source link

More pics about