Disclaimer: I own nothing. This is all JKR's.
Harry was sprinting through the corridors of Hogwarts. He had decided to fly during his 50 minutes of free time. Sounds like fun, right? Well, it was, at least up until he realized he only had 10 minutes to make if from the Quidditch pitch to the Defense classroom. Harry used as many shortcuts as possible to get to the class in time. Thankfully, it took Harry 8 minutes to get to Umbridge's class.
He rushed into the classroom, panting as he searched for a seat. Neville was surrounded by Granger and Weasley with a disgusted expression on his face. Neville glanced at Harry silently begging him to save him, but Harry just shrugged and gave him an apologetic look. Seeing an open seat next to Dean, Harry quickly went to sit down before the bell rang.
Shortly afterwards, the bell rung and the Toad Queen herself entered the classroom from her office door. She slowly made her way to the front of the room.
"Hem, hem," she coughed, "Good afternoon, class!"
A few students grumbled a returning, "Good afternoon."
"Now, class that just won't do. When I greet you, I expect the entire class to respond with a 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.' Now, let's try this again. Good afternoon, class!"
"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," the class responded half-heartedly.
"Hmph, that's slightly better, I suppose," simpered the Ministry Official, "Now, we will be taking notes today class, so wands away and parchment out!"
The entire class grumpily stowed their wands in their bags and pulled out parchment and quills. They were all preparing for a boring lecture about Defensive principles, when Umbridge pulled her wand out and directed the chalk to write upon the board:
Defense Against the Dark Arts:
A Return to Basic Principles.
Course Aims:
Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.
Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.
Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.1
"These three course aims will be very important to your future success in your Defense OWL. I expect all of you to study hard and memorize Defensive theory. Your textbook, Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard, will be your most important text out of your five years of schooling. My course has been approved by the Ministry and by extension, the Minister himself! Now, open your textbooks to Chapter 1, and read and take notes on the material," lectured Umbridge with a nauseating sweet smile.
Harry re-read the course aims and frowned. Based on those three things and Umbridge mini-monologue, she was essentially saying the class would not be performing any practical Defensive magic. Harry knew he shouldn't anger the 'professor,' but really! No practical course work during the OWL year! How in the world would anyone be able to successfully cast any of the spells on the practical portion of the exam!
In addition, Harry had skimmed this disastrous excuse for a textbook and Slinkhard was an idiot. His explanation on the usage of the Expelliarmus charm was entirely incorrect. Slinkhard said Expelliarmus is one of the most useless charms to perfect for a dueling setting. What!? That charm only just disarmed your freaking opponent! Sure, there are other options that are more harmful, but it is a wonderful starting spell and is capable of saving lives, he ought to know!
Harry sat there staring at his unopened textbook for several minutes before clearing his throat and raising his hand to gain the Umbit – no Umbridge's attention.
Toady McToadster, sat her desk purposely ignoring her student for several minutes before the entire class's attention, even the Slytherins, were on Harry instead of their textbooks.
Pursing her lips, which only made her look more toad-like shockingly, Umbridge called on
Harry to speak.
"I apologize for interrupting, Professor," Harry began politely, "but I have a question on the course aims."
"And what, pray tell, Mr…"
"Potter, ma'am," Harry provided barely repressing the urge to roll his eyes.
"Mr. Potter, could be so confusing about the course aims? They are very clear with their intent," she grinned slightly.
"But they say nothing of the practical side of this class. When will we be practicing the spells we will be required to perform on the OWL?" Harry asked.
"My dear," began Umbridge condescendingly, "there is no need to practice Defensive spells before the examination. As long as you study the theory hard enough, you should be able to successfully perform the enchantments. After all, this is a classroom, not a Quidditch field."
"We won't be using magic?" blurted out Weasley, "Then what's the purpose of school?"
"Why should I have 20 some students cast dangerous spells that could wind up injuring you. What kind of professor would I be if I allowed that?" cried Umbridge. "It is entirely out of Ministry guidelines for students to perform such spells!"
"But if we don't practice spells beforehand, how will we be able to perform them properly in the exam? Studying theory isn't enough! We need to practice the incantations and wand movements to get the spells down," exclaimed Parvati Patil.
"Students will raise hands in my classroom before speaking!" shrilled Umbridge. "I understand most of your previous instructors in this class have encouraged practical spell work, but I guarantee you they did this without Ministry consent! Four years of topsy-turvy teachings have led to an unbalanced Defensive education! Only Professor Quirrell used a semi-decent lesson plan for students."
'Yeah,' thought Harry, 'sure he used a semi-decent lesson plan. Too bad he had a Voldemort parasite growing on the back of his head!'
Parvati's mouth opened in shock at the disgusting dribble protruding from Umbridge's mouth. "Professor Lupin was the best Defense teacher we've had! He explained all theory through useful practical demonstrations! I've never learned more under any instructor in any class," she declared.
"Mr. Lupin introduced young children to dangerous creatures unnecessarily! He put all of your lives at risk!"
At this, Harry snorted quite loudly.
"Something to add, Mr. Potter," Umbridge sneered, narrowing her eyes at Harry.
"Well, since you asked Professor," smiled Harry, "Professor Lupin was the best Defense teacher we had. He made sure we would be prepared should we ever face these creatures outside a classroom environment. Why, his lessons on how to defend yourself from a Grindylow was absolutely crucial to my success in the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament last year. He made sure he was always with us when facing any creature."
Harry's smile grew larger as Umbridge's face turned a deep red in anger. 'Huh, with that shade of red, she eerily reminds of Uncle Vernon,' thought Harry, 'stubby neck and all.'
"That was an extraordinary occurrence Mr. Potter. Besides, I'm sure that even if you had only studied the theory on how to defend yourself from such creatures, the end result would be the same. The likelihood of any of you requiring the usage of any spells taught in this class outside of the examination is very slim. After all, who would want to harm children?" trilled Umbridge as she looked at Harry, as if daring him to contradict her.
Oh, Harry would contradict her, just probably not in the ways she would expect. "So, Professor, you're saying that outside of the practical portion of the OWLs, we will have no use for Defensive spells. Which is 60% of the total OWL grade by the way. What about the students who plan on becoming Aurors after graduation. Will they have no need of these spells? What about those who want to become Curse Breakers? I'm sure they need to utilize Defensive spells when breaking wards and tombs. And besides, we will not remain children forever. Eventually we will reach the age where criminals won't care that we were once children. What then? Are we just supposed to ask them to not attack us? 'Oh, please don't attack me! I was told no one would want to harm me!"
Harry could see his classmates, even Weasley, Granger, and the Slytherins (albeit reluctantly) agreeing with what he said. Umbridge notice the solidarity as well, her anger rising when even the Slytherins agreed with the upstart.
"You will have plenty of time to perfect these spells before needing them in any career field. Right now, you are children and no sane person would harm a child," spluttered Umbridge.
"Umm," Harry interrupted, ignoring Umbridge's death glare, "I was attacked at the tender age of one. Granted the psychopath was hardly sane, but still. I'm sure a Voldemort-like character wouldn't hesitate to attack anyone, even a child."
Umbridge got a look in her eye that looked as if the cat caught the canary. "Why, Mr. Potter! What on earth are you suggesting? Do you truly believe someone would come after you? You're just a boy after all."
Rolling his eyes at her obvious attempts to get him to declare Voldemort's return, Harry silently debated the pros and cons of giving in. If he continued to refrain from discussing Voldemort's return, she was only going to continue goading him into admission, or he could just end it now and deal with the consequences. Oh, what the hell! What's the worse she can do? Detention?
Wanting to finish whatever this craziness was, Harry glanced at Neville who nodded as if agreeing with Harry's thought process as he stood up defiantly. He ignored the looks of glee on Umbridge's, Weasley's, Granger's, and Malfoy's faces (hmm…odd they were all excited about the same thing) as he stared Umbridge down with a steely look.
"As a matter of fact, Professor, I am suggesting someone would come after me. I have been attacked numerous times by crazy wizards every year. The most notable of these crazy wizards would have to be Lord Voldemort himself, although personally I like to call him Moldyshorts, it suits him. And last summer he did in fact resurrect his body in some Dark ritual. He ordered the killing of Cedric Diggory in front of my eyes. When I saw the Ministry accuse ME of killing Cedric, well, all I can is I was highly offended anyone could think I could kill someone I was beginning to view as a close friend. So, yeah I think someone is after me and wants me dead."
Harry continued to glare at her as her lips stretched into a wide grin showing her yellowing teeth (Ew). "Detention for a week, Mr. Potter, for spreading lies about You-Know-Who and the Ministry," she sang happily.
"Too bad I'm not lying," he muttered, "and one day I will be proven right."
"I heard that, Potter," she declared. She waddled over to her desk, barely reaching the top of it she was so short. She quickly wrote something down and she waddled back to Harry. "Take this to your Head of House and tell her I demand to see her immediately. If she doesn't arrive within 20 minutes, you will have detention with me for two weeks! Get on with your reading class!" She quickly dismissed Harry and went back to sit at her desk, her stubby legs failing to reach the floor.
Gulping at the thought of McGonagall's anger for deliberately ignoring her advice, Harry walked out of the classroom with his head held high. While, he was scared of his godmother's anger, he knew Umbridge would have given him detention for something at some point in the class. He was just glad he got it early in the class so he wouldn't have to read that waste of parchment.
Harry made his way to Professor McGonagall's classroom, hoping she had a free period, otherwise she would only be angrier. Sighing as he heard her tell-tale lecture voice describing the beginnings of Transfiguration and the change from a matchstick to a needle, Harry knew McGonagall would be livid with the interruption. The boy who faced the Darkest Wizard in a century and the most vile professor to ever grace Hogwarts' halls unflinchingly, hesitated at the door of his godmother. Steeling his nerves, Harry raised a fist and knocked on the classroom door.
Immediately the sounds within the classroom ceased and Harry fidgeted nervously as he waited for someone to open the door. After what seemed like hours, the door slowly creeped open revealing a young boy with green and silver trimmings on his robe. Harry smiled slightly seeing the first-year Slytherin gasp as he recognized who was at the door.
"Mr. Potter, I hope you have a very good reason for interrupting my class when I know you should be in Defense right now," Professor McGonagall clipped out, her lips thinning in anger.
"Well," Harry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "the Toad, I mean Professor Umbridge, wants to discuss my behavior earlier in her class with you. She demands you see her immediately, otherwise my detention extends to two weeks instead of one."
McGonagall glared at the impulsive boy in front of her. Harry shrank back as her obvious ire battered him in the face. "And what, pray tell, am I supposed to do with my class of first-years. I can't just leave them unsupervised."
"We'll be fine professor," piped a voice near the front of the room.
"Yeah! We'll be good!" Another agreed.
The stern witch shifted her glare from her misbehaving lion to the first-years in front of her, although it was a tad softer. "Unfortunately, despite your reassurances, I am not allowed to leave you unattended. Mr. Potter!" She barked. "You will stay here and watch the students while I discuss your…behavior…with Professor Umbridge. After which, you and I will have a discussion of our own."
Harry winced slightly at her tone but nodded none the less. He really didn't two weeks of detention with the hag. Professor McGonagall swept out of the room, her anger obvious to all in the classroom. Harry only hoped, part of that anger was directed at Umbridge. If all that Scottish temper was for him, he was so screwed.
Harry walked to the front of the classroom, ignoring the first-years whisperings. Slowly, he turned to face the class. He the class was made up of Slytherins and Hufflepuffs, a decent enough combination, plus they were only first-years. Harry saw that each student already had a matchstick in front of them. Hoping that meant McGonagall already finished her instruction on the theory, Harry asked the class how far she had gotten into the class.
"She was just about to let us attempt to transfigure the matchstick into a needle," a curly-haired Hufflepuff answered.
Nodding his head, Harry indicated they should try the spell. He closely monitored the class as each first-year squeaked out the incantation, Mutatio argenti. Harry watched as every single face before him fell in disappointment. Chuckling softly, Harry waited as they each tried it again. The second try wasn't any better. Their disappointment quickly shifted to anger at their repeated failure.
Harry decided to intervene before the class declared mutiny on the matchsticks. "Hold up, everyone," he called out. He quickly gained every student's undivided attention. "Saying the spell isn't enough. Waving your wand in the correct motion isn't enough. With magic, Transfiguration especially, you need to picture the outcome you want. Avoid imagining the matchstick slowly turning into a silver needle, however. Picture the needle in place of the matchstick, then call out the incantation and move your wand in the correct pattern. Try it again."
The more courageous first-years, both Slytherins and Hufflepuffs, slowly closed their eyes in concentration. Their brows furrowed as they each pictured a needle in place of the matchstick on their desk. The rest of the class watched entranced as their classmates began to move their wands. One by one, they chanted "Mutatio argenti" and moved their want in a figure eight. Two Hufflepuffs and one Slytherin ended up with a complete transfiguration, while the remaining ones who tried had a wooden needle or a silver matchstick.
Harry's face broke out into a grin as the students opened their eyes and gasped in surprise. Even those who didn't complete the transfiguration were excited. They got the matchstick to change!
"If I could, I would reward each student who completed the transfiguration 10 points and those with a partial transformation 5 points. However, I'm not a professor, so take a job well done instead," encouraged Harry. "Now, the rest of you try as you have seen some of your peers succeed!"
Harry instructed the three students who had a complete silver needle to try and change it back with Mutatio lignum. Hethen walked over to the students who had a partial transfiguration as the rest of the class began to picture the needle.
He told the ones who had a silver matchstick to focus on the shape of the needle as they have the material down pat and the ones who had a wooden needle to focus on the silver metal of the needle. After a few more tries, each of the students he was helping had a silver needle instead of a wooden matchstick. He then instructed them to attempt to change it back as he had the others.
Harry turned his attention to the students still struggling. One Hufflepuff boy seemed to be having more difficulty than the others. Harry sat down next to him as the Hufflepuff tried yet again. He hopefully opened his eyes and sighed in frustration as he still saw the wooden matchstick.
"It might help if you picture the match slowly turning into the needle. That method is occasionally more beneficial for someone. Most people just find it easier to picture what they want and ignore the process. Many Muggleborns find picturing the process easier," Harry advised.
The young first-year looked at him gratefully for the assistance. "How did you know I was Muggleborn?" He asked.
"Oh, I didn't. I just read in a book over the summer that that was the case. I actually used that method until I grew comfortable enough to just picture what I wanted. It's slightly slower, but it works until you grow more confident," smiled Harry.
The Hufflepuff nodded and tried again. This time when he said the incantation, the matchstick slowly morphed into a silver needle. The boy opened his eyes to his classmates cheering his success. His face broke into a giant grin when he saw the needle.
"Thanks Professor!" He exclaimed.
"Yeah, Professor! You were brilliant," another first-year claimed. The others nodded eagerly in agreement.
Harry chuckled at the first-years' exuberance. "Guys, firstly, I'm not a professor. I'm a student just like you guys. Please call me Harry. Secondly, I just gave you all a tip. You performed the spell that caused the transfiguration!"
Every single first-year were loudly disagreeing with both statements, declaring he deserved their respect as a professor and he was a genius for suggesting they picture the needle. Harry was trying to calm the class down, when the classroom door was thrown open and McGonagall was standing there, her nostrils flaring in anger.
"QUIET DOWN, NOW!" She yelled. Immediately, everyone became silent. "Mr. Potter," she growled, sounding very much like her Animagus form, "I thought I told you to watch my students. Not let them turn into raving hooligans."
"Professor!" Harry exclaimed, "It's not as bad as it looks! I swear!"
"Oh, really! Because to me it looks like you have absolutely zero control over the first-years. I am truly reconsidering my offer of extra lessons, Mr. Potter."
"Wait! Professor," cried the Hufflepuff boy Harry was helping earlier.
"Yes, Mr. Higby," breathed McGonagall.
"Professor Harry helped every one of us successfully complete the matchstick to needle transfiguration. Some of us can even transfigure it back. I can't, but they can," he said pointing to the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs who were the first to try the transfiguration.
"Yeah!" Everyone else exclaimed, "It's true, watch us!"
Minerva McGonagall watched in disbelief as literally every Hufflepuff and Slytherin first-year successfully transfigured a matchstick into a silver needle.
"Wha-? How?" She spluttered. "How did you all do this?"
Higby responded, "The Professor told us, initially, to picture a silver needle in place of the matchstick. When I continued to struggle even after everyone else succeeded, he told me to imagine the process the matchstick went through as it turned into a needle. He also worked with any of us individually who needed extra help."
"Higby…"
"Tyler!"
"Tyler," Harry corrected, "I told you to call me Harry. I am in no way a professor."
The entire class immediately shouted in disagreement until both Harry and McGonagall gave them all stern looks.
"Woah…that was creepy. They have the same exact expression," a Hufflepuff girl whispered to a Slytherin boy who nodded in agreement.
"Well, I guess 5 points to each of you," McGonagall stated, "and Potter, I would award you points, however, the only reason this occurred was because you antagonized a professor."
"Professor, I'm sure she would have eventually awarded me with detention no matter what I did. I just decided to get it over and done with," Harry reasoned, "Umbridge hates my guys."
"We'll continue this in private Mr. Potter. Now, since each of you were successful, I'll dismiss you 30 minutes early, but," she interjected before they could get too excited, "you all have to write a 1 ½ foot essay explaining which method worked best for you and how it will be useful in future transfigurations."
The first-years grumbled as they packed up and left the classroom, but not before thanking 'Professor Harry' once more. Harry rolled his eyes at his apparent new title.
"What is it with the first-years being so cruel to me?" He asked out loud.
McGonagall snorted, but refrained from answering. Instead, she directed Harry into her office to discuss his punishment with Umbridge. Harry cautiously sat in the chair in front of her desk and waited for his godmother to begin.
"First off, Potter, I'm very disappointed you allowed yourself to get yourself into trouble with Umbridge. However, I greatly enjoyed how you took a more logical approach with your arguments. Yes, I spoke with a few of your classmates out of Umbridge's prying ears to get a less biased opinion, Mr. Longbottom and Miss. Patil proved very useful. Besides the point, there wasn't much I could do about your punishment, but I was able to get her to move Tuesday's to before dinner and Wednesday's to Saturday, so you would be able to attend Remedial Transfiguration and Charms those days," she explained. "Please try and refrain from angering her anymore, Professor Umbridge has the ability to make your life very difficult, Potter."
"She already has," he muttered.
"What was that?"
"Nothing, Professor. Just a tickle in my throat," Harry quickly lied.
"Mmhm," she pursed her lips before continuing, "Professor Umbridge has a lot of power with Minister Fudge backing her, but I'm sure you know that."
Harry's face darkened, but he nodded in acknowledgement.
Minerva wondered at the darkened expression on Harry's face, but refrained from commenting. She was coming very close to overstepping her bounds as a professor. If Harry came to her as a Head of House, she would be willing to provide more advice, but since he hadn't reached out to her, she decided to send him on his way to his Ancient Ruins Independent Study with a ginger newt biscuit in hand.
Harry made his way to Professor Babbling's classroom after his discussion with McGonagall. As he walked slowly through Hogwarts' corridors, he thought on the conversation. It seemed like McGonagall wanted to say something else before he left but stopped herself. He wished she would at least show some godmotherly tendencies. He realized she didn't remember, but the feelings were still there, right? At least that's what Snoutclaw said.
Sooner than he thought, Harry wound up at the Ancient Runes classroom. He entered the room and saw Professor Babbling setting up some easels. Confused, Harry called out to the professor to let her know he was there.
"Ah, Mr. Potter!" She smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I was very impressed with your test scores. You told Minerva you were only studying Runes for about a month?"
Harry nodded.
"That's very impressive Mr. Potter. Your knowledge on the Norse, Egyptian, and Greek rune alphabets is very in depth. Due to that, I believe we should immediately start with practicing drawing the runes. Your ability to read and identify the runes are perfect, but your finesse with drawing the runes could use more practice."
And with that, Harry and Babbling quickly began his independent study. Babbling would draw a rune on her easel, Harry would try and mimic it as well as identify the language and its meaning. While they worked, Babbling also explained where she saw the independent study going.
"Once you perfect your runes for Norse, Egyptian, and Greek, I think we can start with carving the runes into wood to imbed the power of the runes into the wood. Eventually, either by the end of the year or maybe even semester, I think you will be able to create your own runic wards. After that, I could either teach you another runic alphabet or how to take down runic wards. You have a lot of flexibility and I can tell you are naturally gifted in this subject," she gushed, "I'm so excited to be able to actually teach someone the intricacies of Runes!"
Harry grew more excited as the professor continued. He truly enjoyed Ancient Runes and he was intrigued how he could possibly incorporate Runes with the Ancient Magyics he was also studying on his own. Harry was only beginning to understand the complexities of Ancient Magyic, but he was excited none the less.
The two-hour independent study session flew by. Professor Babbling declared Harry almost proficient in his rune drawing abilities, she thought another session of two dedicated to that would find him well enough to begin describing the magic behind the carving of runes.
Harry left Runes excited and ready for dinner. However, once seeing Umbridge's excited grin in his direction, he remembered his detention and grew moodier. Neville, Luna, Hannah, and Susan all sat with him at the Gryffindor table, letting him brood. Neville explained to the girls why Harry was in a foul mood earlier and they decided to let him be.
Harry saw Umbridge leave the Great Hall 20 minutes later and knew he ought to follow. He said goodbye to his friends and silently apologized for his behavior. They waved it off and Harry relaxed slightly knowing his friends weren't mad at him.
Harry quickly found himself in front of Umbridge's office. Pausing slightly, Harry knocked on her door. A high-pitched, "Enter," directed Harry to open the door and enter the office. He was immediately thrown off by all the pink. It was all he could see. Pink walls, pink rug, pink chairs, even her desk was pink! The pink was so overwhelming he almost missed the hundreds of cat photo plates. How he almost missed them, he didn't know. There were literally hundreds of them!
Now, Harry had seen this office through many different phases. Lockhart just had hundreds of photos of himself hanging around smiling at each other. Lupin usually had some sort of creature in his office a long with some wicked looking swords. The fake Moody had so many dark detectors, Harry was surprised he never triggered them. But this! This was ridiculous. Even worse than Lockhart. The only non-pink surface were the cats, quills, her damned black bow, and Harry's outfit.
Shuddering, Harry waited for Umbitch to give him directions on what he was doing. Her smile oozed with fake sweetness. "Ah, Mr. Potter! Please have a seat," she gestured towards a pink desk. Ugh more pink! "You will be doing lines for me today Mr. Potter," she simpered.
Harry went to pull out some parchment and a quill and ink. "No, no, Mr. Potter. You'll a special quill of my own. And you'll be writing I must not tell lies. Understand? Good," the toad pulled out a large, black quill. It was easily the size of Harry's forearm.
Sighing at the simplicity of the task, Harry grasped the quill before realizing he had no ink. He enquired about the lack of it, but Umbridge assured him it was unnecessary. Shrugging, Harry began writing in blood red ink. Immediately, he began to feel an irritating itch on his left hand that quickly turned into a cutting pain.
Looking at the back of his hand, Harry was horrified to see, in his handwriting, the words I must not tell lies appear. He stopped writing and stared at his left hand.
"Is something wrong, dear?" Umbridge interrupted with false concern.
Harry looked up at her in disbelief, before quickly shifting to an intense glare of pure hatred. Umbridge involuntarily flinched at the strength of his gaze. Harry turned back to his parchment and continued writing lines. He refused to show anymore weakness towards the odious woman.
He continued writing with the dratted quill for 2 hours. Blood was seeping from his hand onto the pink desk and rug. Ugh red totally clashed with pink. Umbitch called him over and inspected his hand. "Seems deep enough for now, we'll continue tomorrow," she tutted. Harry glared at her in disgust. "Oh, before you leave, Mr. Potter. Allow me to stop the bleeding and hide the cuts. We wouldn't want anyone to know about this, now would we? If anyone discovers this, well, let's just say it wouldn't be pretty," smiled the sadistic toad.
Harry's hand now appeared to be perfectly fine, but he could still feel the pain caused by the cuts. With one final glare, he stormed out of her office and left for the Common Room. He ignored Carly's and the other first-years' calls, as well as Neville's. He immediately went to his dorm and just went to bed. He was in too foul a mood for any sort of interaction, he would apologize to everyone in the morning.
AN: I'm so sorry for the lack of updates! I've been super busy with exams these past few weeks. But I'm back! Hopefully, this chapter satisfies you all for now! I really enjoyed writing it! Sorry for the lack of interaction with Susan, but I really wanted to focus on Umbridge's cruelty and Harry's teaching ability! I really like writing Harry being a mentor towards all first-years. Hope you guys do to! Thanks for all the reviews! I really enjoy reading all of them even if I don't respond. Please continue leaving constructive feedback! As always, please read and review!