Erik couldn't recall to you how he got there, or what exactly he was doing in the first place to get there. He just remembered some sort of scuffle, or fight... annnd then he got like this: Sprays of light poked through cracks in the metal prison, as Erik felt his legs and arms clank along awkwardly against the sentient enclosure, taking away control of his own body. This must be what it feels like to be imperioused.

As he fumbled, rocked, and wiggled from the suit, corners of iron pinched at his clothes and skin, he felt the crash and roll against a wall or a person's body, followed by a yelp, running, or a flurry of giggles. "Sorry," was all Erik could echo from within the suit that continued to go on and on. The first year gryffindor huffed a sigh, he was tired of wrestling with the suit now, but he could even reach his wand to try and get out. And it was sweaty in there.

THU-DUMP.

He crashed to the floor in pieces, a helmet, torso, and bottom-half of the stupid living suit of armor, and Erik crawling into a stand. The twelve year old stopped and looked around with disheveled clothes and a lopsided shirt, half tucked in, and his hair was caked over to one side of his head like a crooked mohawk. Calmly but dizzily he cautiously stepped around, trying to see everything and where he was, and then saw the armor, greeting it with a kick, "Stupid--"

Then the armor swiped back, and he jumped back tripping onto his butt, "ugh... Er..." he noticed a figure standing just out of his view, "hiiiiii" he tried to compose himself in the midst of his dizzying head, and then turned to face the person, "eh sorry," he added obviously.

Then he realized the person was an adult, looked like a teacher even.

His expression dropped dead and his voice drew flat, "Oh."