Aberforth was a Dumbledore after all. Though Kyle had found beating him easier than beating a dog back in 1899, that had been a hundred years ago.
Even if the current Aberforth was no match for his brother, he was still far stronger than most wizards. At the very least, he could hold off Voldemort.
The two dueled in midair, spells blasting against each other in bursts of multicolored light like fireworks. Kyle did not hesitate in the slightest before turning and running.
Some of the quicker-reacting Death Eaters nearby made the same choice... as for the slower ones, they no longer needed to run.
Unlike Professor Dumbledore, Aberforth used almost exclusively highly destructive magic, with the occasional Killing Curse mixed in.
And Voldemort went without saying. Their spells were simply not something ordinary Death Eaters could withstand.
Kyle had only avoided getting caught up in it because he ran fast enough.
Kyle recalled what Aberforth had told him earlier...
"Go do what you need to do."
Kyle scratched his head. Aberforth was unlike his brother—his personality and way of thinking were more straightforward. There was no need to overthink his words; they generally meant exactly what they said.
In this situation, the only thing he needed to do seemed to be deal with those Death Eaters.
That was easy enough.
Kyle opened his case, rummaged around inside for a while, then pulled out a huge, furry dog head...
Next, an adult Three-headed Dog at least a dozen feet tall was forcibly dragged out of the case by Kyle.
Smack!
"Fluffy, stop sleeping. Get up and get to work!"
That slap finally woke the still-dazed Three-headed Dog.
Behind the Three-headed Dog were two smaller shadows. Quick as a flash, Kyle grabbed one of them and stuffed it back into the