Disclaimers: I don't own anything that has to do with Harry Potter, except for some copies of the book, but those don't really count. I also don't own the song "Wherever You Will Go". None of this is mine. Comprenez-vous? So don't sue me.
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"Fifty-seven."
Harry looked at Hughes, horror-stricken. MacRae stared in disbelief at the prone figure on the floor. "Fifty-seven Death Eaters," he croaked. "That's going to be a lot of backup.."
Harry took a deep breath, and composed himself. He sat, thinking. Behind him, MacRae was pacing in circles, muttering incoherently about Ministry procedures and backup. Finally, Harry spoke. "I think that in this situation, it would be complete suicide to try and enter the headquarters alone. We need to get backup."
MacRae nodded. "Fifty Aurors.. does the Ministry even HAVE fifty Aurors now?"
Harry frowned. "I think that Hermione can dig that many up.. at least, I hope she can. I know she'll come if there aren't enough. In any case, I don't think we need fifty Aurors, if we have the element of surprise. Forty might be ok, plus us three."
"Still, forty people is a lot," MacRae said with a sigh.
"The Ministry used to employ over two hundred Aurors," Harry said firmly. "I'm sure Hermione will be able to get some of the older ones to come back briefly for one last fight."
"I hope you're right." MacRae turned to his bottle of water again.
Harry turned to Neville. "Neville, could you please Apparate back to Hermione and ask her to send as many Aurors as she can get up here as backup? More than forty would be nice, more than fifty would be ideal, more than sixty would be best."
Neville nodded mutely, and disappeared. Harry turned back to the man on the ground. "Why are there so many Death Eaters here?"
"We need that many to accomplish our plan," the man mumbled. Harry's eyebrow twitched slightly. "And what would the plan be?"
The man's eyes rolled in their sockets, and turned towards Harry. "Carry on the work of our Lord Voldemort."
Harry tapped his foot on the ground, with the sudden feeling that the man he was talking to wasn't too bright. "How do you plan to do that?"
"Use the information from our hostage to get inside the Ministry, kill the Mudblood Minister, and take it over. Then we'll kill all the Muggle-loving fools, and this country will be made all the better for it." Hughes' face stretched into a distorted smile, which looked more like a grimace. "Do you like Muggles?"
Harry had expected something like this, and fought his impulse to give the man tentacles instead of limbs when he called Hermione a Mudblood. He succeeded. Barely. "Some of them. Who is your hostage?"
"An Auror from the Ministry. He knows all about how to get around the main Ministry buildings, and where they are -"
Harry rubbed his temples, beginning to get irritated. "Does the Auror have a name?" he snapped.
"His name is Ron Weasley, I think. That's what they called him," Hughes mumbled, his head lolling to the side.
Harry stared at Hughes. "Ron?" he whispered. "Ron's alive?"
"He was alive last night," Hughes continued in a monotone.
"How do we get to him? Is he far inside the building? Is he hurt? What have you done with him?" Harry leapt out of the chair, standing over the Death Eater. Before Hughes could answer him, Harry heard a rustle of cloaks behind him. MacRae reached into his robes, and Harry whirled around, raising his wand -
"Stupefy."
Harry blacked out.