I sighed as I tossed down the dish towel I had used to dry about a thousand plates and goblets. It was hard work, but it's not like I had any other way to do it. Without a wand, I could barely be called a witch, and I certainly wasn't capable of wandless magic, by any means.

"Carrie is tired," Pinky noted. As my house-elf roommate, Pinky was constantly concerned about my welfare. "Can Pinky make Carrie a mug of hot-chocolate?"

"I'm fine, Pinky," I said, slowly walking toward the living quarters just off the kitchen. "Just need a bit of rest, that's all."

Pinky followed me into our shared room. It was small, but we didn't need much, after all. A small set of bunk-beds were in the back corner, with a small nightstand next to it. A line of hooks on the wall held the tea-towel dresses that Pinky wore, and the very simple garments that I was clothed in.

"Pinky noticed that Carrie worked extra-hard today," she said, softly. "Pinky is sorry that Carrie can't do wandless magic like house-elves."

Flopping down on the bed, I nodded. "I'm pretty sorry that I can't as well." I chuckled to myself. "Maybe someday, I'll venture down to Diagon Alley and get myself a wand. Then I'll be able to do all the dishes myself, and you all can focus on the cooking and serving magic."

Pinky laughed. "But Carrie knows that Dumbledore, as kind of a master as he is, won't let Carrie out in the castle, much less into Diagon Alley." She sat next to me on the lower bunk and placed her small hand on mine. "Magic isn't everything, Carrie. There's much more in the world."

"I'm going to head to bed now," I said. "Stay and watch if you like, but we've got to be up early tomorrow." I snuggled down under the sheet on my bunk. It stayed pretty warm in the kitchens, so our quarters were nice and cozy year round.

"Alright, Carrie," Pinky said, laughing. "Pinky will go to bed too. Make sure to wake Pinky up early."

I slipped into a deep, dream-filled sleep that I hardly wanted to rouse myself from. But I could tell that I had overslept by the tugging at my arm.

"Carrie." Pinky yanked at me as she called my name. "Carrie has to get up! Must cook early breakfast today, remember?"

Slithering out of my bed, I changed my dirty clothes for the clean set on the hook next to the bed. Placing my dirty clothes in the hamper on the way to the kitchen, I waved a good-morning to Hunker and Blink, two other house-elf friends.

Blink, being as old as time and blind as a bat, was one of the laundry-elves. He couldn't do sorting very well, but he could fold like a mad-elf when he needed to.

Hunker, on the other hand, was pretty large for a house-elf, and was in charge of carrying large loads of everything where we needed them. Box of a thousand Cornish hens? No problem. Fifteen bags of laundry from the dormitories? Got it covered.

The early breakfast today was for the students, who were involved in full-day exams. As it was nearly the end of the year, they needed to be tested on what they learned over the past year. It took a full day to get through all the exams, so they had to miss out on having lunch. We, the kitchen-elves, made sure that they got a super-filling breakfast, and a very good dinner for their troubles.

I began plate setting for the cooking-elves. When they were finished with the delicious-smelling foods, the transport-elves would magic the food onto the plates I had placed. I would then remove the plates to the four large tables that represented the House tables upstairs. Everything had to be perfectly set.

Sometimes, I would let my mind wander and miss moving a plate or two. But never on a special day like today.

"Carrie can take over my cook-station for a moment," a house-elf asked. "Zinger must use the facilities." The poor house-elf looked as if she were about to burst.

"Sure," I said, unsure of myself. "How soon will you be back."

"Oh, as quickly as Zinger's legs can carry her, Carrie."

I took over the station, hoping it was something simple that I had learned to cook already. Luckily for me, it was scrambled eggs. I simply turned the eggs for a bit, and when they were done, moved them onto the awaiting plates.

As promised, Zinger was back in a flash.

"Oh, Zinger is so thankful," she said, giving a polite bow. "Carrie has done well. Zinger owes Carrie a debt of thanks."

I waved her on. "It's nothing," I said. "If I had to rush to the restroom, I'm sure you would have done the same for me."

The look on Zinger's face seemed less sure of that than I would have liked, but she assured me that I was correct. "Zinger will find a way to thank Carrie properly," she said. "But on a less busy day, of course." She rushed back into the station, filling the pan with dozens of raw eggs, and cooking them up in a flash.

Sighing, I resumed the task of moving plates into place. When we were finished cooking and placing foods on the tables, the students were ready to eat. The transport-elves snapped their fingers, and the plates disappeared from our tables and appeared in front of the hungry students.

As the roar of gasps emitted from the students, I smiled to myself. I would never get tired of the sound. It was all the thanks we got from the people we cooked for every day.