Snape sees Zatanna's volley, weaving with preternatural skill backwards as things lash and wave in the air. It's a strange and beautiful magic, less codified then his own -- he'll have to admire it later, however.

For now, he sees her zooming toward him, reaching out; he doesn't resist her sweet, instead, adds speed to them with his own magic, leaving the contrail behind that marks the sky with an ugly, black wake.

"I don't think we can kill or destroy it, even as harried as it is," he shouts over the din to be heard, "but I think we can,at the very least, slow it down significantly... Do you think we can tangle it from below?"