The excitement of magic, the wonder of the school and the intrigue of the incredible secrets within had worn off about one month in. Erikur, first year Slytherin, muggleborn and bred (he did like that joke).....was bored out of his skull.
Classes were boring. The magic was too easy and not stimulating enough.
Food was boring. British food was all the same.
His housemates were boring. All they cared about was blood status and scheming.
Scheming was boring. He had no enemies yet.
Leaning against the wall of a hidden passageway concealed behind a tapestry, Erikur twirled his wand in his hand, wiling away the Slytherin-Gryffindor Charms period they were supposed to have - put on hold owing to a bubotuber, three textbooks, and a boil the size of Peeves.
I am a metamorphmagus.