Don't move...

Sally sighed hoping everything was going well for the other followers. She would hate to have to fight in the mood she was in. She pulled the muggleborn behind her taking him to the ditch she had magically dug earlier. See her idea was to throw him into the ditch that was about sixteen feet deep and magically seal the top of it so he was not able to get out. She drug his unconscious body reaching the ditch and tossed him in hearing a thud from below. "That probably broke something" She said made sure to kick his wand to the side of the ditch and had been nice enough to put a little cushion of leafs at the bottom so he was not to terriblely hurt. It would be less fun if he couldn't move altogether.

She looked down at him seeing he was still past out and smiled. "I did a good job if I must say so myself." She muttered as she started the incantations that would hold him in the ditch so where he couldn't escape. "Good luck, you shall be there for a week." She whispered as she whistled loudly to let Julia know she had her hostage secured.

This was all beyond Trowa’s comprehension. His ears were ringing and there was a great pain in his chest that he couldn’t describe. If asked, he couldn’t tell you how he’d ended up sixteen foot below ground in a hole that was coated in magic. Trowa had landed in the leaves but that didn’t make the fall any softer. He knew something was broken and at a hunch he was going to say it was his ribs. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He never acted up in class and he certainly wasn’t prey to the Slytherins. At least, he hadn’t thought it would be.

He was a Half-Blood. That wasn’t anything special but it wasn’t anything that would get him in trouble with the Purebloods. It was the middle ground. There, he had a choice between either side. Trowa had no preference. He made clothes for people both sides of the blood-purity fence. He didn’t care about that in the slightest. Evidently though, someone did. He wasn’t a bad person at all so his blood was the only explanation for the attack. That didn’t answer much, though.

Groaning quietly, Trowa lifted his head. He brought his hand to his face and tore away one of the leaves that stuck to him. He rubbed away some of the mud that clung to his skin and looked up to see something that was almost like a shield of magic surrounding the lid of the hole. It would keep him in, he supposed. Sighing, Trowa dropped his head back down. He’d wait this out. He didn’t have to deal with it; or, well, he shouldn’t have had to.