Disclaimer: JK Rowling obviously owns the Harry Potter series. I only own the Ocs and the plot ;)

Wish you all a happy new year !

I had to split this chapter in two as it was becoming waaaaay too long for my taste. So this part will focus exclusively on Worschula/Désirée and the other will focus exclusively on Severus and Harry/?.

Hope you will enjoy ~

Thanks to all of you for reading, don't hesitate to leave a comment! :)

Freaks (part 1)

Little Worschula Flint had always felt she was different from her siblings. She did not possess their dark hair and brows nor did she share their taste for sulking and complaining.

As she sat across from them at the dinner table, the difference looked even more striking.

Marcus Jr, the eldest, was as dark, gloomy and grumpy, as a Flint could be. He was the one who had to live up to the expectations of their family and this prospect didn't make him any happier. Yet, Worschula was quite fond of him for he never completely ignored her, unlike the rest.

The rest stood for her father, mother and older sister, pretty Vera Flint. The latter was terribly vain and equally stupid but her silky dark curls and generous curves were her insurance for a good marriage. Hence she also had her fair share of family expectations. Indeed, ever since great-grandpa Flint had lost half their wealth to gambles with Goblins, the Flint family could no longer afford to spend too much on their female offspring but given her potential, Vera's beauty would be complemented by a good dowry.

Meanwhile, little Worschula with her clumsy demeanour and dull, faded-blue eyes, was only expected to grow into a quiet, respectable old spinster for she, would have no dowry ever. There were of course some young men who would take a bride for nothing, but these men were certainly not worthy of a Flint, or so she was told from an early age.

"Worschula! Your soup is getting cold..."

Worschula's round eyes met her father's stern look. He was the one who had pulled her out of her thoughts, as always. Her father hardly ever talked to her, except to scold her a bit. He had never shown any affection for her or her siblings but he seemed to hold his older children in higher regard as he occasionally spent some time with them, sharing their interests.

When she was only a toddler, Worschula had once overheard a conversation between some of her parents' pure-blooded acquaintances. The ladies were whispering about her being a child "born from an affair". Even if she had not quite understood the meaning of it, she had sensed it was a bad, disgraceful thing and could explain her father's complete indifference to her fate.

She quickly swallowed the last spoonful of soup in her bowl but as she hasted, she choked on it and began coughing loudly.

"Always stuffing yourself like a pig when you are already this fat! Merlin, who gave me such a rude, disgraceful child!"

Her mother sighed and looked at her in disgust, she would always call her fat and never used her name. Worschula was certainly not fat but she had a round face and a chubby little body, unlike her siblings.

She looked down and bit her lips, trying to hold back her tears. Even if she was used to it, her mother's comments were still painful to hear. After all, Worschula was only a 6-year-old girl and a very emotional one too. But in her sorrow, she was comforted by the thought that her mother wasn't mean to her on purpose. Indeed, Ms Flint had always treated her three children with equal disinterest and annoyance. The only difference was that the two teenagers didn't mind anymore.

Once they were allowed to leave the table, little Worschula ran to her bedroom where she could cry to her heart's content. Her room was neat and clear with a nice four-poster bed and a little desk. Everything was in green or white with hints of silver, as any aspiring Slytherin's room ought to be. It didn't bother Worschula for green was her favourite color and she also fancied silver as something "classy". Out of all the rooms in the Flint mansion, her bedroom and the library-lounge were her two safe havens as fortunately, she was the only reader of the family.

The Flint didn't like to spend much, especially for their children but they still wanted to look smart and well-off with other pure-blooded families thus books on all subjects and odd magical objects could be find in every corner to the little girl's delight.

When she was sad, like tonight, she always cried herself to sleep and dreamt of her fairy godmother. Worschula did have a godmother but she was far from a fairy and had never cared about her one bit. The fairy godmother of her dreams, on the other hand, was a gentle person with a soft voice who would always hug her and kiss her and tell her that she loved her very much. Everything about her seemed so familiar that sometimes, Worschula imagined that she had been adopted and that she was her real mother. But this lovely thought never lasted as she well knew it couldn't be true. That's why she believed her to be her fairy godmother, who watched over her from another world. Thanks to her, Worschula was not as unhappy and pitiful as she would have been otherwise. Sure, she was a lonely, wistful little thing but she had the secret comfort of someone who cherished her.

When she woke up the next morning, sun rays were softly caressing her face. It would be a beautiful day, or so she thought.

Toby, their house-elf, had already prepared her some breakfast and the clothes she had to put on for the day. Only dinner was served in the Dining Hall with the whole family.

Worschula washed her face then dressed up slowly and carefully. She liked being dressed nicely but her mother had a terrible taste and only picked cheap outfits with too much frills and ribbons which made her look ridiculous. Once she was fully dressed, she brushed her hair and attached it into pigtails. She had removed the ribbons on the scrunchies but she didn't dare do it for the dress in case her mother noticed. Worschula liked her long, straight hair but, just like her eyes, it was a very dull color, a faded ginger without gloss.

Finally, she was ready for breakfast. But as she began eating her porridge with pumpkin marmalade, she heard someone knocking at her door.

"Worschula! Mother is waiting for you in her boudoir, she has something to tell you, hurry!"

This was definitely her brother's voice. She quickly swallowed the remaining spoonfuls of porridge, choking a bit in the process, and came out of her room under her brother's bored look.

"You're really too fragile, choking every time you eat...Try to be a little more careful."

Worschula nodded in response. She knew it was his own way to care for her. She hurried to her mother's boudoir, tripping on almost every steps of the staircase. After she had softly knocked on her door, she entered the room at her mother's command. The latter was sitting in front of her vanity, arranging her hair in a giant bun which was a poor imitation of Ms Black's famous, elegant one.

"Don't just stand there and don't stare, it is so rude! This child, really! You'll be the death of me..."

"Sorry, mother." Worschula looked away and sat silently on one edge of the large couch that was located near her mother. Then she waited for her to speak.

"Now, you know how Ms Black has so much to tend to these days because of her niece Andromeda's upcoming departure for Hogwarts. Well, she owled me this morning to know if you could come and play with little Regulus while she will visit her sister-in-law with Sirius. Of course, Kreacher will be there too."

Worschula had to hold back a big smile as she was overjoyed by the news. From the moment he was born four years ago, she had deemed him to be the most precious little thing she had ever seen. Whenever her mother was invited for tea at number 12, Grimmauld Place, Worschula came with her to play with Regulus and look after him since his older brother prefered to play with his toys and cousins. This was pretty convenient for Ms Black, who didn't wish to pay someone to play with her youngest son.

"I would be delighted to go, mother."

"Perfect. You will leave after lunch."

"By floo?"

"Of course not, you silly child! You don't want to look messy in front of Ms Black!"

"I'm sorry, mother..."

"Toby will apparate you there."

"Yes, mother."

"Now leave, I must get prepared for my luncheon."

"Yes mother, have a nice day."

Worschula quietly left her mother's boudoir. She always dreaded those moments so she was extremely relieved when it ended.

She had a few hours to kill before lunch and there was no one to play with so she settled for the library.

The room was very large, probably the largest of the whole mansion, with many books and sofas to sit on. It was also used as a meeting room when her father received other pure-blooded wizards with the same political opinions. Worschula liked it for its large, dark curtains which hid nice nooks to read. She didn't really know how she had learned to read, in fact it had almost come to her naturally, as if she had always known the letters and the words. It hadn't surprise her parents at all as they didn't pay her enough attention to guess that she could understand what was written. To them, she was only looking at the letters and images with an odd interest. But to her, it had been a big surprise, especially when she had understood that other children couldn't read like she did. Yet the most troubling thing was that she could read in french as well. The very idea seemed quite preposterous as none of her family members knew the language. Thankfully, no one had noticed as only the Blacks and the Malfoys had french books and Worschula had been careful to hid herself when she read these.

Today, she wanted to read about immortality, one of her favourite subjects. She picked a book about Nicolas Flamel and his wife and sat comfortably in her usual nook.

When she was done with her reading, it was almost time for lunch so she went back to her room and waited for Toby to apparate her meal. Fortunately, he was a great cook and kind enough to take her requests into account so she was usually well-fed, except when she was punished.

A few minutes later, her beloved vegetable lasagna apparated on her desk with a note from Toby telling her "Bon Appétit miss" and that she had to be ready to leave in one hour. It was positively delicious and Worschula forgot all about her meeting with her mother, focusing on the time she would spend with her sweet Regulus instead. When she was done, she snapped her fingers and her plate and cutlery vanished. She brushed her teeth and hair, re-did her pigtails and went down to the entrance corridor where she patiently waited for Toby.

A few moments later, she grabbed his tiny, gnarled hand and they both apparated on the steps before the number 12, Grimmauld Place. He helped her keep her balance and handed her a soothing medicine for her tummy as apparating made her sick. Once she was back to her normal rosy cheeks, he rang at the door and Kreacher opened it for them. Worschula liked him quiet a lot as he took good care of Regulus so she smiled warmly as she said :

"Hello Kreacher, I hope you have been well since last time."

"The little miss Flint is so nice for Kreacher, Kreacher is glad the little friend of Master Regulus came to visit again."

He let them in and guided them through the grand entryway, lit by gas lamps and a magnificent chandelier. Worschula was always intimidated by the ornated portraits hung on the walls and all those snakes drawn in almost every corner. She did like green best but she wasn't too fond of snakes. Ms Black had probably already left so Kreacher immediately took them upstairs, on the topmost floor where Regulus' room was situated. As she climbed the remaining stairs, she heard the sound of a door opening and closing and little Regulus soon came running to her, welcoming her with an hopeful smile.

"Chula!"

"Reggie! Come here."

She bent to hug and kiss him. Now began her afternoon of perfect bliss!

Unlike Sirius, who was full of mischief and liked to smirk, Regulus was calm and sweet which had a very positive effect on Worschula.

He was really attached to her because, contrarily to his older brother and cousins who looked down on his age, she never minded playing with him.

She let him grab her hand and lead her to his bedroom where all his new toys laid ready to be used.

"Look! Look, it's new! Like it ?"

"Yes, I like it very much, it's so cute!"

Regulus was showing her a furry dragon that could fly.

They played with his toys for a while, imagining games and battles of dragons then she suggested to go to the drawing room where she could do some story-telling. This was their favourite activity as she had a real talent for it. She would imagine a whole story where they were both heroes who had to save the magical world from evil. Together, they mimicked the moves, screamed like warriors and avoided imaginary attacks from enemies. Even Kreacher who was usually very stoic and strict liked to brandish imaginary swords.

But as they were on the verge of saving the Minister for Magic himself, the door sprang open to reveal none other than Sirius and his cousin Bellatrix. The latter was almost fourteen years old and Worschula feared her more than a Banshee. Everybody knew she was mean, cruel and terribly conceited. As a child, she already reveled in bullying other children, especially those she found infinitely inferior to her and unworthy of her time. The only ones who seemed to find favor in her eyes were her sisters and cousins but to someone like Worschula, she was nothing but taunting and disdainful.

Yet, despite this behaviour, she was constantly praised for her impressive magical skills and strong will. Her only affliction came from being a girl as her attitude was judged unbecoming for a Mistress of the Noble House of Black.

"Oooh, Baby Fake-Flint came again today! Tell me, how is it to live in a family who doesn't give a damn about you ?"

Worschula bit her lips to prevent it from trembling as she didn't want to look weak. Bellatrix well-knew she wasn't her father's daughter that's why she always called her Fake-Flint to mock her.

"Mistress Bellatrix shouldn't say such things, it is unworthy of a Black!"

Kreacher liked Bellatrix well-enough but he had been ordered to correct her behaviour whenever it was not as expected.

"Don't talk like this to Chula!"

"Back off Reggie, you had better teach him some useful things Sirius, our little Reggie here is way too nice!"

"Mommy's boy."

Sirius laughed as he said this and his laugh sounded like a bark.

Meanwhile, Bellatrix had drawn near Worschula and was weighing her up, a nasty smile plastered on her face.

"Well, well, do you know that you always manage to amaze me somehow ?"

Worschula didn't answer, she smelled something fishy for Bellatrix Black had never been nice to her before, not even once.

"You don't know? I'll tell you why. You see, each time I see you, I feel so certain that you couldn't possibly look any uglier but then, I see you again and...you prove me wrong! That's quite an amazing feat, isn't it Sirius ?"

Sirius' answer was an other laugh. He wasn't mean like Bella, nor was he particularly nasty but he liked to taunt too and the little girl, who prefered his baby brother's company to his, greatly annoyed him.

Worschula's lips were now bleeding from being bitten so much but fortunately, Bellatrix didn't seem to notice. However, the taunting was not over.

"Look at me when I talk to you, little eyesore!"

Worschula raised her chin a little but tried to avoid the teenager's glare.

"Do you know what I've heard today, Fake-Flint? I've heard that you still hadn't shown any sign of magic! You're a little squib, aren't you ?"

"Don't talk to little Mistress like this!" squealed Toby.

"Mistress Black really shouldn't use such ugly words, it is not-"

"Oh shut up, you too!" Bellatrix rudely interrupted Kreacher and cast Worschula's one last dirty look.

"It's not my fault if she doesn't show any sign of magic! I displayed it when I was only a week old."

"But dear Mistress Black is from the-"

"Noble and most ancient House of Black, I already know it you stupid elf!"

"Ooh, but look, little Fake-Flint is crying! Now, now, you shouldn't cry for this...After all, even if you were a squib as I suspect you are, it wouldn't be so bad. For all we know, you might even descend from filthy muggles! You'll just be disown and have no dowry and -silly me! But you've already got no dowry! So you see, it won't make a difference.

Bellatrix cackled at her own nasty joke and, with her beauty and evil nature, she reminded Worschula of the Evil Queen, a character she had once encountered in a muggle book left in the streets. The little girl couldn't hold back her sobs anymore so she fled to Toby and told him she wanted to go home. Regulus tried to grab her dress to prevent her from leaving ; the little boy was at a loss, he hadn't fully understand what his cousin had said but he did understand that it had made his playmate very unhappy. But Worschula gently released her dress from his grip and whispered "see you later" before vanishing with the house-elf.

As soon as she was home, she ran to her bed and cried to her heart's content. Bellatrix had successfully hit her sorest spot—again. Pureblood children were expected to display magic very early but to her parents' disappointment and shame, Worschula seemed to remain completely impervious to it. Magical devices didn't even respond to her, brooms included, which was very annoying for a Flint as they usually took pride in their Quidditch skills. Her brother, who would be a sixth year in september, was already Captain of the Slytherin team and her sister played Chaser for them, when she was not too busy dolling herself up.

She was used to being asked about it and being regarded as an intruder by both adults and children, but it still stung.

As far back as she could remember, Worschula had always longed for magic. But each time she had been on the verge of feeling and expressing it, she had heard a voice echoing in her head, urging her to "spare her magic". Because of it, she had had to learn self-control very early to avoid transforming her will into something tangible. For any "normal" child, it would have been impossible to do, but Worschula had noticed on more than one occasion that normal rule did not apply to her. She was sometimes under the impression that her mind was more an adult's than a child's. She had come up with the idea that maybe she could remember her past lives yet she was not sure reincarnation did exist, even in the magical world. And she did behave and think like a child most of the time...so she could very well be a genius kid. However, with her clumsy demeanour and small lisp, she guessed no one would ever suspect it nor believe it.

Most of the time, she could bear with looks and comments but Bellatrix Black had a knack for making people feel bad about themselves. Moreover, it was tiring to have to keep her motives hidden as nobody would understand her concern.

When she was finally done crying over Bellatrix' nasty comments, she quietly left her room and went straight to the library where she hoped she would get lost in a book and forget about her worries.

It was only 5pm and dinner would be served in two hours, it was exactly the time she needed to finish a good book. This time, she settled for "100 ways to get rid of your enemies", a book she found interesting but didn't fully understand as it refered to magical concepts she had never heard about. As she was making herself comfortable in her usual nook, she suddenly heard voices coming from behind the door and soon enough it was opened wide to let many people in.

Crap! Her parents had mentioned a meeting held at the mansion a week ago but as she was not concerned, she had conveniently forgotten all about it! She took a glance from behind the heavy curtain and realized it was too late to attempt a discreet exit. She would have to remain hidden until they left. She cowered in her nook, hoping her feet didn't betray her and tried to muffle her breathing as she feared to be discovered. She took another glance and this time she had to stifle a gasp. Among this powerful men's assembly stood none other than Bellatrix Black, her head held high and lips curled in a scornful pout. Worschula felt her heart rate increase as she couldn't help but fear the older girl, especially after their encounter in the afternoon.

The men were beginning to take a sit around the table which had been magically expanded for the occasion. The only sit which remained empty was for the man who would preside the assembly. Worschula was surprised, she had thought her father would preside since the meeting was held at his house but it was quite the opposite. The seating plan seemed to follow some kind of hierarchy and it was evident that her father's position was not among the highest. He was presently trying to sit beside Nott who had secured a good place just to the right of Abraxas Malfoy. But as he was about to sit down, Bellatrix strode up to him and claimed the seat for herself. Her father seemed rather taken aback by her nerve and Worschula felt her blood boil.

"This is my seat." said the young Black girl.

"It is certainly not." answered M. Flint, his voice betraying some irritation.

"I can assure you it is, Flint. Now move, I don't want to be standing there like a stupid pole when He will come in." she was seething.

"You might be a Black but you're still a teenager and as such, you had better learn to respect your seniors! I won't let you have this seat. Find another one."

"You, I swear you'll regret it, move or I shall curse you out of this seat!"

Worschula had never seen her so angry before, she looked positively mad. Tears of rage were even shining in her eyes, which was surprising coming from her. Surprisingly enough, neither her father nor uncle were trying to intervene to calm her down, they both looked bored as usual.

"How dare you speak to me like this? You are an insolent girl who doesn't know her place!" now it was her father's turn to be angry.

"Better be insolent than clumsy, ugly and magic-less!"

This was a low blow as she knew all too well that Worschula's case was a sore spot for her family. She had gone too far this time, Cygnus Black had to intervene:

"Bellatrix! You will apologize to M. Flint right away! And take an other seat for Merlin's sake..."

"I shall not! Father, He promised me that I could have a good seat today!" she looked almost desperate, Worschula noticed.

"You have heard your father, mo—"

"Let her sit." rose a high, cold voice.

All heads, including Worschula's, turned to take a look at the man who had just talked and presently stood in the doorway. He was tall and thin, and had probably been exceedingly handsome once. But now his features seemed waxy, almost reptilian. The little girl felt oppressed. It was as if this stranger had brought a dark atmosphere with him. His voice had even sent a chill down her spine. Everything about him screamed "evil". From the look on the men's face, it was clear that they too, were intimidated.

"But-" her father tried to protest.

"I said, let her sit." his tone was final and the coldness of his voice filled the entire room.

Bellatrix looked as if Halloween had come early this year, she was all pride and joy. But as soon as she turned to M. Flint, her smile was replaced by a smirk of triumph.

"I did tell you, didn't I? Move now!"

Worschula felt pained by her father's humiliation. Had she been older, she would have left her hideout and strangled the older girl. But for the moment, she could only growl in anger. Unfortunately, the reptilian man immediately looked in her direction, as if he could see her through the heavy material of the curtain.

"I fear we have a surprise guest among us tonight." the cold voice said again.

All the guests were surprised by this statement but her father followed the stranger's gaze and seemed to understand the situation.

"Show yourself, child."

Worschula hesitantly left her nook, she secretly hoped her father would excuse her and send her directly to her room. She didn't want to face the dark stranger. Her heart was beating faster as she moved forward. Fear was about to overwhelm her when a little voice began talking inside her head. It would repeat "he's only human, he must have a weak point" and "I don't fear other humans" over and over. As the voice talked, her fear vanished little by little and she was able to walk the last steps that separated her from the assembly quite confidantly. The stranger was now two meters away from her at most, his face expressing both contempt and mild interest as he saw the book she was carrying with her. She bit her lips, it was not very clever of her to carry it around, especially in front of him.

"So this is the child you told me about, Bellatrix?"

"Yes, Lord Voldemort."

"I see...You were quite right, I have seldom seen such ugliness in a child."

Some of the men in the assembly snorted while Bellatrix looked at the alleged "Lord" in something close to adoration. Worschula clenched her jaw and gripped her book even tighter. She didn't mind critics coming from her family and close acquaintances but she wouldn't tolerate it from a mere stranger, even if said-stranger were a true Lord.

"Better be ugly on the outside than on the inside."

"I have to disagree. I think that if you're ugly on the outside, nobody will approach you."

"Only the people who are worth it. While if you're ugly on the inside, there will come a day when your outside will match it."

"You sure talk a lot for a silly little girl..."

Lord Voldemort, or whatever was his name, was now staring at her as if he could read her mind. She tried to look away and focused on the cover of her book instead. But he followed her gaze and kept going:

"Interesting choice, for a child your age. Tell me, do you understand its content ?"

At this moment, her father seemed to come back to its senses and stepped forward:

"Worschula can't read, she's only six and she hasn't learnt it yet. She just likes to look at the pictures and turn the pages!"

"Is that so? I guess it makes sense. Such complex work will forever remain out of reach for the likes of you."

His scorn was for both daughter and father this time.

"Don't you dare look down on my father."

Her lisp was gone, erased by her determination and anger. Everybody in the room was shocked, except the key player, whose mask of contempt was showing signs of irritation. Bellatrix' glare was murderous.

"Oh, but I dare. A little squib like you, on the other hand, should think twice before offending Lord Voldemort."

"I'm as much a squib as you're a Lord."

Now they all held their breath.

"You little bitch!" This came from Bellatrix, of course, who had rushed to hit Worschula but had been stopped mid-way by Voldemort. The latter was clearly enraged too but he had other plans for the little girl.

"Stop it Bellatrix, wizards don't fight like filthy muggles..."

"But my Lord! She dared insult you when she and her stupid father are our inferiors! She doesn't deserve any mercy!"

"I told you to stop insulting my father!" now Worschula was almost yelling.

Then several things happened : Bellatrix tried to hit Worschula again, Voldemort pointed his wand at her but before either of them could get to her, the windows and mirrors of the room exploded, sending glass splinters flying everywhere, taking them all by surprise.

In the confusion, only Voldemort managed to protect himself immediately from the shards by casting a quick Protego. The others had suffered several cuts before they could cast the spell.

Yet, after a few seconds, it became evident that something was off. First, the shards didn't fall but kept swirling around at increasing speed. Secondly, Worschula and her father seemed to be miraculously spared. Voldemort looked down at the little girl and was slightly surprised by what he saw. Her plump face was contorted with rage and her dull blue eyes had turned black. He figured out it was probably her doing though it was rather unexpected. Maybe he had underestimated her...He had to make sure.

"Pathetic...Is it all you can do ? I have seen better displays of magic from mudblood babies...but I don't expect anything more from you."

His little taunt seemed to work as the shards began hitting their shields with more power than before. Yet, he remained unimpressed. The intensity was still too weak to break even one shield.

Worschula felt she was losing control but she didn't want to give in to his taunt. It was clear he wanted to test her, to see how far she could go. But just as she had regained some control over herself, she felt something click inside her mind and her whole conscience was taken over by something far more powerful than she was.

At the same time, there was a loud bang and all the shields crumbled, causing panic among the assembly. Even Voldemort, who had not been prepared for this twist, suffered a few cuts before casting a new Protego. He looked around him and saw that the others' shields were not strong enough to last. This was becoming interesting...Maybe he should attack her to see how she would react.

But as he turned towards her again, he stopped dead in his tracks. For a split second, in place of the little girl's, he glimpsed the cold, stern face of a woman with long, silvery black hair and dark eyes. He blinked and it was Worschula again, silly pigtails and all, only she was smiling oddly at him:

"You...Lord of death or whatever you call yourself...One day, your life shall be mine." she stated confidently.

Voldemort had certainly not seen that coming. Never in all his life had someone dared address him like that, least a stupid little girl. He stood frozen for a few seconds, both outraged and amazed by her nerve.

"You little—" but he was interrupted by a thunderous noise. All the glass splinters had begun falling to the ground.

Worschula's weird smile was gone, replaced by a dazed expression.

The room was a complete mess and almost everybody was bleeding from the cuts, except the two Flint. Voldemort had only received a few minor cuts on his cheeks but he had already tended to it.

Now that everything had come back to normal, they realized that someone had been screaming the whole time of the drama. Indeed, unbeknownst to all, Bellatrix had failed to cast a good Protego because of the powerful swirl and her beautiful face was full of deep, ugly cuts from the shards. Her hands and arms were also bleeding profusely as she had used them to cover herself. In her rage and fear, she had blindly cast almost every spell she knew but none of them had reached their target, causing further damage to the room instead.

When she spotted Worschula, whom she had been aiming the whole time, she pointed her wand at her, a deadly look in her eyes:

"I'm going to kill you, you-little-FREAAAK!"

A spell missed the little girl by an inch. Worschula tried to take a step but she was completely exhausted from her feat. She lost her balance and fell heavily on the stranger who let her slid to the ground without trying to catch her. When her father tried to help her to her feet, he realized she had already fainted.