"Damn it! Think of something, Harry! I don't want to get eaten by spiders!" Ron screamed in despair!
Ron raised his wand. His hand was no longer shaking. The light at its tip shone in the darkness like a star compressed to its limit, ready to explode at any moment, still screaming. He stared at the dark red eyes closing in and swallowed.
"Incendio." A tongue of orange-red flame burst from Harry's wand tip. It did not strike the spiders, but the ground—the ring of fallen leaves around his and Ron's feet. The leaves caught fire, flames rising from the earth and burning an irregular orange-red circle around them, still spreading outward.
A wave of heat pushed outward from the center of the fire ring, forcing the nearest spiders back several steps. Their legs looked longer and thicker in the firelight, the bristles on them drifting in the hot air like a gray-black wheat field flattened by the wind.
"Whirlwind Sweep." Ron drew a circle through the air with his wand. A small tornado spiraled from its tip, sweeping up fallen leaves and sparks as it blew toward the densest cluster of spiders. The wind fed the flames, and the flames borrowed the wind's strength. Fire was pulled from the ring like an elongated, twisting orange-red snake, lunging at those dark red eyes.
The spiders retreated. Not out of fear, but instinct. Fire was one of the few things etched into their genes, something they avoided without needing to learn why. The ones in front backed away, while those behind kept crowding forward, legs tangling with legs and bodies colliding. Fist-sized spiderlings crawled between the larger spiders' legs, their limbs catching fire and giving off tiny crackling sounds, like something being roasted dry.
Harry hurriedly tore the Chimera hide shawl