"You have names?"
Karkaroff nodded weakly, gazing up at the backlit profile of Bartemius Crouch on the other side of the bars. He wanted to stand, but wasn't sure he had the strength – or the nerve.
Crouch's voice was sharp.
"How many?"
"E...Enough." Karkaroff swallowed. "I promise, it is enough."
"You can promise nothing," Crouch snapped, almost sneering. "Many of your fellows have already been caught."
"I..." Karkaroff faltered, but summoned what meager resolve he had. "I wish...to...to help the Ministry..."
"You wish to save your own skin." Crouch sounded disgusted. "But, as you have offered...Very well."