Karkaroff sheperded his students out of the Great Hall, paying particular attention to Viktor. He still looked a little peaky, even after the feast.
"Viktor, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough?" Karkaroff questioned. Viktor wasn't the type to ever make mention of his discomforts; his stoicism made him an excellent Quidditch player, but complicated Karkaroff's constant efforts to keep an eye on him. "Should I send for some mulled wine from the kitchens?"
Viktor shook his head, stubborn as stone.
Karkaroff made a mental note to call for some wine anyway, to have on hand. Just in case.