Lyall Lupin is the quintessential Muggle ally. His wife is a Muggle, working in insurance, no less. In fact, most members of the Anti-Dark Magic League are staunchly pro-Muggle—not in the political, "Muggle-born wizard" sense that dominates the Order of the Phoenix or Death Eater debates, but in a literal, heartfelt way. They see Muggles as equals, their differences no greater than those of nationality or skin color.
Take their famous honorary member, Gilderoy Lockhart, for example. In his books, he's upfront about his grand dream: a world where magical and non-magical folk live in harmony. (Hermione, his number-one fan, has that bit memorized by heart.)
This genuine affinity for Muggles makes the Anti-Dark Magic League a darling of magical ministries and societies worldwide, earning them favor and funding far beyond what groups like the Order of the Phoenix get. But let's be honest—they can be a headache too. These revered magical masters, with too much time on their hands, love to pontificate and form all sorts of quirky little clubs within the League. One group, for instance, tirelessly campaigns for stricter regulations on Aurors casually tossing Memory Charms at Muggles.
This deep identification with "humanity" also shapes their less-than-warm attitude toward non-human magical beings. Take the theme of this gathering: celebrating the 380th anniversary of the failed Goblin Rebellion. And where do they hold it? Hogsmeade, the former goblin headquarters. The specific venue? The Hog's Head pub, built on the ruins of the rebellion's command center. It's basically dancing on the goblins' graves.
This makes it crystal clear who the League's biggest adversaries are: werewolves. In their eyes, werewolves are the one group that risks stripping someone of their "human" status—unless, of course, you're willing to argue that werewolves are human.
Some members are already pushing for laws to classify werewolves as human, and Lyall Lupin is part of that effort. A dark magical creatures expert who spent most of his life despising werewolves, Lyall's world turned bitter when Fenrir Greyback, out of spite, bit his young son, infecting him with lycanthropy. His once-happy life became a struggle.
Lockhart gets along well with Lyall. He's savvy enough to know which groups will boost his fanbase, so naturally, he's joined this little werewolf-rights club too. The man's got connections, and he's not shy about using them.
When Lockhart and Dumbledore arrive at the Hog's Head, they find Lyall chatting with the pub's owner, Aberforth Dumbledore. "Hey, Gilderoy!" Lyall calls, grabbing two frothy butterbeers from the bar and handing them over. "Madam Merrythought's been looking for you!"
Galatea Merrythought, retired Hogwarts Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, taught for nearly fifty years. Her students included the Dumbledore brothers, Minerva McGonagall, Horace Slughorn, and even Tom Riddle. Talk about a legendary figure.
Dumbledore, curious why his old colleague wants Lockhart, takes a butterbeer and casually asks, "What does Merrythought want with him?"
Aberforth smirks at his brother, his tone dripping with mischief. "You don't wanna know."
Lyall hesitates, sensing it's awkward to discuss this in front of Dumbledore. But with those inquisitive eyes on him, staying silent feels like hiding something. "Well," he says, a bit sheepishly, "Madam Merrythought wants to invite Gilderoy to her club. It's… a gathering of former Hogwarts Defense Against the Dark Arts professors."
Here's the thing about Voldemort's curse on that position: it doesn't mean the professors die. It just ensures no one lasts more than a year. Before Quirinius Quirrell, no Defense professor had died on the job. Since the curse began in 1956, Hogwarts has cycled through over thirty professors, not counting those from before Tom Riddle's meddling. That's enough to form a proper club.
Dumbledore's expression twists. He's got a bad feeling about this. Aberforth bursts into laughter, barely containing himself. "Oh, Albus, you'll love this. The club's called—ha—the 'We're Not Dead Yet' Club! Hahaha! It was formed after Quirrell kicked the bucket!"
"!!!"
Funny? Dumbledore doesn't think so. He just feels a headache coming on. This club's name is going to make hiring new Defense professors a nightmare. But what can he do? Ask Merrythought to rename it? Merlin's pink hairpin, that stubborn old witch would never listen to him.
Lockhart, on the other hand, is thrilled. This group could be a goldmine for tracking down dark magical creatures. Lyall leads him to a corner of the Hog's Head, where a space-expanding charm has made room for the League's sizable gathering. They weave through the crowd to reach Madam Merrythought.
She's a kindly-looking witch, and the "We're Not Dead Yet" Club members are an impressive bunch. They welcome Lockhart warmly, raising glasses in a toast and cheering him on, urging the young professor to hang in there and not end up like poor Quirrell.
Lockhart quickly notices a difference between this group and the rest of the League. Compared to bookish types like Lyall, these former Defense professors have a wilder, more rugged edge—less academic, more battle-hardened. It's not just that teaching the subject changed them; it's that Dumbledore clearly favors practical, combat-ready types for the role.
Thinking about Hogwarts' staff, Lockhart realizes that, except for Care of Magical Creatures Professor Kettleburn, every professor is a fighter. Even the Divination teacher. This club施法 is no joke—this is the group to help him hunt dark creatures.
"We're family here," says a dapper old wizard in a sharp three-piece suit, passing around cigars with a grin. "Gilderoy, we're all rooting for you at Hogwarts. Need any help? Just say the word. This club thrives on looking out for each other."
Oh, Lockhart's got needs alright. His eyes light up, ready to ask for help tracking creatures, when he feels his Boggart stirring in his robe pocket. A flicker of fear crosses his mind as the Boggart shifts into a pale, shriveled arm with sharp black nails, gripping him tightly.
This particular form of the Boggart has a unique trick: when it touches someone, it plants screams of terror in their mind. It's a subtle way for it to pass messages. And right now, it's whispering, "Beware! This wizard harbors intense hostility toward you. Only him. It's… unusual."
"!!!"
Lockhart keeps his cool, flashing a charming smile and launching into a lively speech about his love for adventure and how much his favorite student, Harry Potter, admires him. Sure enough, mentioning Harry's name makes the old wizard's hostility spike.
Death Eater? Or another of the Dark Lord's followers?
Soon, Lockhart learns the man's identity from the others: Corban Yaxley. Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood, owner of a dragon breeding farm, a wand-wood forest, and the global wizarding fashion brand Flair & Finesse. Former short-term Hogwarts professor under Headmaster Armando Dippet, Ministry official, and Wizengamot member.
Oh, and one more thing: a Death Eater. In the original story, he was part of the group that killed Dumbledore and later rose to head the Department of Magical Law Enforcement under Voldemort's regime.