Watching Hagrid carry Harry over his shoulder, with Crouch in one hand and Krum in the other, Karkaroff broke out in a cold sweat after a glance from Dumbledore.
He had actually been about to attack Hagrid. He wanted to finish Crouch off here, but a single glance from Dumbledore had made him abandon the idea. He had grown comfortable for too long and nearly forgotten just how powerful Dumbledore was. One look had been enough to frighten him into submission.
They might both have been headmasters of magical schools, but Karkaroff knew perfectly well how vast the gap between him and Dumbledore was.
Anxious and helpless, he was already considering whether to flee. Crouch had spoken directly with him while under the Imperius Curse. Once Crouch woke up, there was no guarantee he would not give him away.
Damn it, why did this have to happen? Karkaroff wiped away his cold sweat. He had no desire to face another trial. The last time he had stood before the court, he had nearly wet himself in terror.
Cold sweat had already soaked his back. The night wind blew past, bringing a bone-piercing chill, but he felt none of it. Only one thought filled his mind: It's over. It's all over.
Once Crouch wakes up and names Will and me, what will Dumbledore do to me? What will the Wizengamot do to me? What will Voldemort do to me?
He remembered his trial all those years ago, the cold stares and harsh questioning. He did not want to go through that again. Absolutely not.
I have to run! Karkaroff thought.
"Karkaroff."
A voice dragged him out of his thoughts about how to escape. He turned and saw Will.
"M-Mr. Behrens?"
"What happened? What's going on with Crouch?" Will's expression was grim