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Rabastan had no idea how to explain what was happening.
Barty had come to him in panic, bringing with him the body of a young man.
“He came to me,” he said frantically, “he said he trusted me with this.”
Rabastan had frowned before seeing who Barty was carrying: Harry damn Potter , their Lord's nemesis.
Completely bloodied, wounded, ruined by the war.
“He is the enemy of our Lord.” Rabastan had said, returning his gaze to Barty. "Leave him."
“ We didn't make him like this.” Barty had whispered back. “But the muggles he lives with! Where Dumbledore sent him, again and again and again !”
Rabastan stopped.
One thing his Lord had always preached was the protection of children from abusive families, to guard the children, all the magical children, from those who had tried to hurt, humiliate and use them.
As they had done with Voldemort himself, with Barty, Severus, and even Regulus.
“Does Dumbledore know?” Rabastan had whispered. Had Dumbledore really allowed this to his precious Saviour? To the Chosen One?
“I think Dumbledore encouraged this.” Barty whispered back, looking increasingly distressed.
"Okay, then." Rabastan nodded. He was sure that their Lord would approve of his future choice, so he said. “Bring him down, I need to be near the potions.”
***
After two intense hours, Rabastan managed to catch his breath.
Harry had too many injuries, too many for a boy of seventeen, almost eighteen, years. Too many to be still alive.
Burns, cuts, bruises of various sizes, colours and shapes, injuries and abrasions.
Barty had had to hold back tears many times.
“He said he was surprised I was helping him.” Barty murmured, his gaze on the boy's scars. “He didn't seem used to adults actually helping him. Only to those who lied to him.”
“I think Lupin was his professor for a year.” Rabastan murmured. “Surely his unofficial godfather would have been supportive of him.”
“He taught him the Patronus.” Barty growled back. “He was not supportive!”
Rabastan pursed his lips. Even Dumbledore's side would have realised that the man was not who he pretended to be.
How could he be a champion of the Light if he sent powerful children into violent families?
Like Voldemort, like Snape, like Barty… like Harry.
“We need to make this public.” Rabastan murmured. “It will make us win the war without losing any more wizards.”
Barty was about to protest, but Rabastan stopped him. “We will not bring Harry into the spotlight. We won't even leave him. Our Lord will take care of this part, while you and I offer him the support he never received.”
Barty smiled. “Harry.”
"What?" Rabastan asked, confused.
“You called him Harry.” Barty nodded. “You've been calling him Harry for a while.”
“Well…” Rabastan coughed. “It's difficult to keep your distance if…”
"I know." Barty murmured. “Believe me, I know.”
***
Harry had opened his eyes and tried to attack the two men.
He fought very well.
But, fortunately for Barty and Rabastan, he was still weakened, and failed to harm either of them.
“Oh, Harry, calm down!” Barty exclaimed. “You came to me yesterday!”
“Wait, what?” Harry asked, lowering his wand slightly after summoning a beautiful king cobra. “Did I come to you ? I thought I was going to appear at the Burrow!”
Barty and Rabastan exchanged a look.
“Didn't you apparate to me?” Barty asked, confused.
“I don't even know where you live, Barty.” Harry murmured, hissing at the cobra to make it stop. “How could I come to you?”
“I thought you forgave me for the Tournament…” Barty murmured, rubbing his neck.
Harry groaned, before saying. “I just thought of a safe place…”
“And you came to me?” Barty asked, hope colouring his voice.
Rabastan interrupted the conversation. “Did you just… talk with that snake? Are you a Parselmouth?”
"Yes?" Harry pointed to himself. “Dude, the Potters are Indians. Have you ever heard of snake whisperers?”
“But…” Rabastan blinked. “Our Lord is the only Parselmouth.”
“Here in England. No, my father couldn't talk to snakes, but my mother was a muggleborn."
"So?" Barty asked, blinking.
“Have you ever wondered why Tonks is a metamorphmagus ? And no other Black people are? Or why Voldemort is so powerful, while his relatives were almost squibs?” Harry shrugged. “Muggle blood, or muggle-born blood, has made the magical line live again, including the blessings and talents they had.”
“Oh.”
Barty and Rabastan exchanged a look.
They should have told the Dark Lord this too.
***
From then on, the two Death Eaters had divided the duties: Rabastan would monitor Harry's physical improvement, while Barty would deal with the psychological improvement.
“Do you know that it's not your duty to protect everyone else?” Barty asked, as Rabastan checked the bone regrowth in Harry’s arm, after he had properly regrowed the injured bone that had healed incorrectly.
“It's not my duty, but if no one does anything, what should I do?” Harry said in return.
“It's not your job anyway. Why don't you leave this war to the adults?” Barty asked again.
“It's my war too.” Harry protested. “I have every right to fight.”
“But have you ever said what you choose? What is your opinion? Or did others just tell you and did you adapt to their expectations?”
Harry hesitated. “If I don't meet their expectations, how could they ever love me?”
Both men's hearts sank.
“The right people will always love you no matter what.” Barty whispered to him. “You don't have to
earn
someone's love, Harry. It's
free
."
"It is not so." Harry shook his head. “It's never that simple.”
“Maybe you had the wrong friends.” Barty suggested. “Maybe you deserve better.”
"Better?" Harry retorted, hope and doubt battling in his mind.
“Better, yes.” Barty nodded. "Something more."
Harry blinked. " More ." Then, he smiled slightly. “I like the sound of it.”
***
A year later, the war ended, the laws were changed. All magical children, all of them, were protected and educated from infancy.
And to think it all started with a leap of faith.
With an act of love.
***
“So, Draco invited me to his wedding with Blaise, and asked me to be his best man!” Harry exclaimed, pacing back and forth. “What should I say at the speech? I hated Draco and I think Blaise can do better ?”
Barty and Rabastan chuckled, before walking over to the boy and leaving a kiss on his cheek each.
“Maybe not exactly that.” Rabastan murmured.
“Even though it would add drama to the wedding.” Barty smiled.
“Say you're happy for them.” Rabastan suggested. “That you wish them a happy life.”
“To have something more? Like us?" Harry smiled, showing off the two promise rings on his finger, one for Barty and one for Rabastan.
"Like us." They answered.