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Karkaroff straightened himself as best he could, tightly bound to the chair.

“I have, sir,” he said, and although his voice was very scared, Harry could still hear the familiar unctuous note in it. “I wish to be of use to the Ministry. I wish to help. I—I know that the Ministry is trying to—to round up the last of the Dark Lords supporters. I am eager to assist in any way I can…”

There was a murmur around the benches. Some of the wizards and witches were surveying Karkaroff with interest, others with pronounced mistrust. Then Harry heard, quite distinctly, from Dumbledore’s other side, a familiar, growling voice saying, “Filth.”

Harry leaned forward so that he could see past Dumbledore. Mad-Eye Moody was sitting there—except that there was a very noticeable difference in his appearance. He did not have his magical eye, but two normal ones. Both were looking down upon Karkaroff, and both were narrowed in intense dislike.

“Crouch is going to let him out,” Moody breathed quietly to Dumbledore. “He’s done a deal with him. Took me six months to track him down, and Crouch is going to let him go if he’s got enough new names. Let’s hear his information, I say, and throw him straight back to the Dementors.” Dumbledore made a small noise of dissent through his long, crooked nose.

“Ah, I was forgetting… you don’t like the Dementors, do you, Albus?” said Moody with a sardonic smile.

“No,” said Dumbledore calmly, “I’m afraid I don’t. I have long felt the Ministry is wrong to ally itself with such creatures.”

“But for filth like this…” Moody said softly.

“You say you have names for us, Karkaroff,” said Mr. Crouch. “Let us hear them, please.”

“You must understand,” said Karkaroff hurriedly, “that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named operated always in the greatest secrecy… He preferred that we—I mean to say, his supporters—and I regret now, very deeply, that I ever counted myself among them—”

“Get on with it,” sneered Moody.

“we never knew the names of every one of our fellows—He alone knew exactly who we all were—”

“Which was a wise move, wasn’t it, as it prevented someone like you, Karkaroff, from turning all of them in,” muttered Moody.

“Yet you say you have some names for us?” said Mr. Crouch.

“I—I do,” said Karkaroff breathlessly. “And these were important supporters, mark you. People I saw with my own eyes doing his bidding. I give this information as a sign that I fully and totally renounce him, and am filled with a remorse so deep I can barely—”

“These names are?” said Mr. Crouch sharply.

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1. A look of cruel satisfaction on his face, Voldemort straightened up, threw back his head, and stared around at the dark graveyard.
2. And now Karkaroff raised his wand. He paused for a moment, and then a number shot out of his wand too—four.
3. And to Harry’s horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself.
4. As Harry helped himself to a treacle tart, the talk turned to their families.
5. Bagman suddenly spotted Harry, got up quickly, and bounded forward.
6. Breathing heavily, Hagrid gave Karkaroff a glowering look.
7. But Neville was clearly steeling himself to do something desperate.
8. Dumbledore climbed into the trunk, lowered himself, and fell lightly onto the floor beside the sleeping Moody. He bent over him.
9. Dumbledore set down his empty glass and drew himself up in his seat, the tips of his fingers together in a very characteristic gesture.
10. Dumbledore stood up and gave Mrs. Figg his chair, conjuring a second one for himself.
11. Flint and Wood approached each other and grasped each other’s hand very tightly; it looked as though each was trying to break the other’s fingers.
12. For Harry had just hit himself in the forehead with his fist, jolting Hedwig out of his lap.

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