Regulus Black organized three groups of [Hecatoncheires], each named after one of the three hundred-armed giants from Greek mythology.
The Hecatoncheires appeared in the early stages of Greek myth. They were the children of Gaia and Uranus, enormous and ferocious monsters even greater than the Titans and Cyclopes.
The three Hecatoncheires each had their own names:
Briareus, symbolizing strength, was also called Aegaeon by mortals, meaning "Sea Goat." He was the only one among the three who married.
Cottus symbolized hostility and jealousy. His details were unclear, but he remained single.
Gyges symbolized a piece of land. His details were also unclear, and like Cottus, he remained single.
The three of them were tightly guarded by the dragon Campe, imprisoned in Tartarus, the depths of the underworld.
When Regulus Black created his three groups of Hecatoncheires, he placed a contract on their memories. They knew they were serving Regulus Black, but if anyone probed their memories, all they would find was that they were serving the dragon Campe. Within their soul contracts, Regulus Black occupied Campe's place.
Each group of Hecatoncheires consisted of only forty-nine members. Only by adding Regulus Black as the "head" did they become a true hundred-armed giant.
After Regulus Black used his amulet and the [Eight-Petal Mandala Forbidden Ritual] to restore a witch's youth, nearly every member longed for the same treatment.
To achieve this, Regulus Black revised their contracts and reorganized the Hecatoncheires.
Now, the Hecatoncheires consisted entirely of male wizards, each restored to the appearance of his youth.
The female witches withdrew from the Hecatoncheires and were renamed by Regulus Black as Nymphs.
In Greek mythology, nymphs were minor goddesses, sometimes translated as spirits or fairies. They were considered part of the fairyfolk, appearing in mountains, forests, meadows, springs, and seas. They were spirits born of nature, usually in the form of beautiful maidens who loved music and dance. They did not age or fall ill, though they could die. When united with gods, they could give birth to immortal offspring.
Such a role from mythology suited these witches perfectly.
Regulus Black constantly expanded the number of Nymphs. One could say that among the fallen witches today, not a single one remained outside his grasp. All had been recruited to become Nymphs, their sole value being to bear surrogate children for chosen individuals.
Any male wizard unwilling to serve the [Hecatoncheires] would mysteriously lose his blood, which Regulus Black would then use on the Nymphs. Every pregnant Nymph represented the death of a potential enemy.
These children did not need to inherit their fathers' surnames. Since fallen wizards were little more than penniless beggars, the children all belonged to their mothers and would follow their mothers' names.
To further his goals, Regulus Black ordered the [Hecatoncheires] to scour the entire country. They overturned Britain, purging a great many of the lower classes and using them as sacrifices.
In short, Regulus Black committed all of these atrocities in plain sight, unseen by the public.
Voldemort's so-called bloodline revolution paled in comparison to Regulus Black's work—it was far weaker and far more repulsive and terrifying.
When the Death Eaters roamed the wizarding world searching for fallen witches and coercing them into joining, they were shocked to discover that these witches, once as common as dirt, had suddenly become scarce. Even Knockturn Alley now had only a handful left.
"What's going on? What the hell is this 'Hecatoncheires' thing you're talking about?"
Fenrir Greyback seized an old, hideous fallen wizard and dragged him up to his face.
The Wolf King was nearly driven mad with rage. Recruiting in Knockturn Alley used to be as easy as hiring during an economic depression—one shout and countless eager volunteers would rush forward, ready to dedicate themselves to the cause. Now, that sight was gone entirely.
Greyback had encountered the same problem as Lucius Malfoy: some mysterious faction had been heavily recruiting fallen witches for years. Those recruited then went on to recruit others. By now, the faction had grown vast.
The problem was that Greyback knew nothing about this [Hecatoncheires] except for its name. He had once planned to crush their faction in one sweep, only to discover that anyone who joined never returned. Each reappearance was only to recruit more, and every time they looked different, acted different, and had grown stronger.
Such obvious transformation made the [Hecatoncheires]' recruitment efforts incredibly effective.
Greyback, who usually learned about wizarding affairs only through the Daily Prophet, rarely went out himself. As a result, he knew nothing of events unreported in the paper.
Compared to Regulus Black's other schemes, the disappearance of fallen witches from Knockturn Alley seemed like a blessing in the Ministry's eyes. Even the Order of the Phoenix believed it had nothing to do with the Death Eaters, so it drew no attention at all.
"Sir, are you here to recruit wizards too? How about me? I've mastered every spell under level two! I can even transform a rabbit into a hat! I can brew potions, mosquito repellent works great, and I know astrology—I can recognize every constellation in the night sky! Sir! Sir, don't leave!"
The old and ugly wizard advertised himself desperately, like a man begging for work. Knowing lies could be exposed, he spoke only the truth.
"Trash. No wonder even that faction wouldn't take you."
Greyback hurled him away like a filthy insect even more disgusting than himself.
"Please, use me! I can kill, burn, loot, anything. I'll even sell my dignity for a scrap of food. I'll clean, I'll serve—treat me like a house-elf if you want!"
This old wizard was truly at the brink of survival, or he would never have uttered words that cast aside all wizardly pride.
"Get lost. Or I'll kill you where you stand."
Greyback swung a fist, blasting away the wretch who clung desperately to his leg.
The old wizard crashed into a nearby shop, smashing its door, behind which stood a shopkeeper who had been spying.
"What are you looking at? Keep staring and I'll tear down your worthless shop!"
Greyback hadn't thrown him by accident. His wolf-king instincts had already noticed the spying gaze. He deliberately flung the old parasite in that direction to test the reaction.
The result was immediate. The terrified shopkeeper bolted to the back, and Greyback could hear the slamming of several doors in succession.
Clearly, the man was scared out of his wits.
"Tch. Useless. All useless."
Greyback noticed the place was nothing but a general goods store, not a single magical item in sight. Even the merchandise wasn't proper magical material.
"All garbage!"
He snatched a string of sausages from the wall, the only thing worth taking.
The taste was acceptable.
Drawing his wand with a wave, Greyback joined six other Death Eaters, transforming into a column of black smoke and vanishing.
After they left, the shopkeeper who had fled earlier crept back, clutching a vial of potion.
"I told you, old fool, why are you so stubborn? Just join [Cottus] directly. Why insist on proving yourself first? That's suicide! That was Fenrir Greyback—if he had killed you on the spot, I couldn't have saved you."
So the shopkeeper and the old wizard knew each other. The shopkeeper was already a member of the [Hecatoncheires – Cottus].
"Hahaha! Well, what can I say? I'm useless. The only thing I'm good at is my berserker potion. I just wanted to make myself useful! The Wolf King's anger is nothing worth mentioning."
The old wizard leapt to his feet, staring in surprise at his own reaction. Clearly, this was the effect of the potion he had just drunk.
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