Bigby growls at the newcomers. "Now's not a great time, kids." He's a bit suspicious; the shadows are some kind of magic, and there's nothing to say they can't take other shapes, other faces. He sniffs the air, trying to catch their scents.

"Awesome," Harry says, a little gleefully, and he swipes his staff in a wide arc. "Pyrofuego!" he says, casting Hellfire at the bats and the tree.