Rabastan didn't once taunt or torment her throughout the day about her performance in Level Eleven. If anything, she'd impressed him with her ability to return back to the very place she'd been before she ran away. Not once in the room did he have to scold her or order her about like she was unsure or unwilling to do what was necessary. All he'd done was ask her what she meant by the last words she spoke to Nott before she slit his throat. He'd been disgusted to hear what the wizard told her even if he didn't try to lie that there was truth in what he said. He knew all too well that that was exactly what would become of her in a world where men like Nott were in charge. The mere fact that Rabastan was still wanting her to be on his side when the Dark Lord fell proved that he'd at least come to have a new appreciation for her over the years they'd known each other. She was more than just a filthy Mudblood useful for nothing more than fucking and killing. There was a compliment in there somewhere if she could stomach it long enough to search.