Karkaroff reached the doors of the Great Hall, his students trailing behind, he himself mulling over Viktor. Really, he wasn't helping himself by pretending he wasn't ill; dreadfully hard-headed, for all his talent...A Hogwarts student stopped to let Karkaroff through the door, and Karkaroff thanked him offhandedly, sparing him a glance before continuing.
Hm. Funny scar, that. Shaped rather like—
Karkaroff froze.
Slowly, he turned his head, staring. It couldn't be.
And yet...
He looked the right age. And he'd certainly have come to Hogwarts, once he was old enough...
"Yeah, that's Harry Potter," came a horribly familiar growl.