He was dead.
Karkaroff stumbled away from the body, falling against the brick wall of the alley, temporarily ignoring his instincts' demands for flight. Numbly, he let the night's chilling darkness seep through his hooded robes, consuming him.
He didn't know the wizard's name, but he was – had been – a pureblood. Most likely, he'd been offered a chance to aid the Dark Lord's cause and refused.
Karkaroff finally Disapparated, but not before tearing off his mask and retching violently behind a pile of old garbage.
This had been his first mission alone. It was different, committing murder all by yourself.