Valid question, Hermione pondered, considering what the possibilities might be. The smug blond standing beside her gave a chortled cough. He didn't bother to answer the old man, instead sliding his hands in his pockets casually. "I want ten percent of the profit." He told Karkaroff plainly. "In addition to two legal betting pitches at every race for each of my men, with the fixed numbers. If we are all satisfied with the services after one calendar year, then it will raise to three and so forth."