Karkaroff didn't slow his rapid pace, though he knew his students were straggling. He could practically feel Moody's magical eye boring into the back of his head.
That bastard was here at Hogwarts – teaching, presumably. The bastard who'd damned him to the dementors—
"Professor? Professor!" It was Poliakoff, jogging to keep up. "Who vos that man? Vith the eye? And vos that boy really Harry Pot—"
"Shut up!" Karkaroff snarled. "Shut up! No questions! From any of you!"
Unfortunately, "no questions" didn't mean "lack of interest." The deluge of curious whispers followed him all the way to the ship.