Summary: When the original Order of the Phoenix are, one by one, saved from certain death by what could only be a Potter with that monstrosity for hair, the future of the wizarding world is irrevocably changed. When Hemlock Potter saw Molly Weasley, alone, crying on the anniversary of Fred's death, she had only wanted to see her smile again. If that meant ripping apart time and space to do so, then that was exactly what she'd do. A light-hearted tale of chosen families, a mother's love, and the extraordinary luck of a wayward Potter. Told in a series of drabbles. Fabian/Fem!Harry/Gideon. Slow burning. Slow moving.

Updates (important): This fic is a writing challenge. It will be updated daily (Every other day at the latest). Told in drabbles, varying in length, from a hundred words to perhaps a thousand, the challenge is designed to keep the writer, well, writing. I know a lot of people get annoyed at daily updated fics, and so, wanted to give everyone a heads up encase this bothers you. So, fair warning, this fic is updated DAILY.

Chapter One:

The Slippery Slope To Stupidity.

Part I

Hemlock Potter's P.O.V

The first thing Hemlock Potter ever felt for Molly Weasley was gratitude. Alone, lost, only eleven years old, and entirely too new to the wizarding world to be left stranded in the bustling crowds of King's Cross Station without a guiding hand, she was more than a little overwhelmed and frantic.

The tiny child, with clothes too big, knobbly knees, and a future she could never have dreamed of, didn't know where to go. Who did she ask for help from when, exactly, she didn't know what she needed help with? What should she do when, really, magic was so boundless? How much trouble would she be in if she missed the Hogwarts Express, especially for something, to Hemlock, as silly as getting lost?

And if she did miss the train, then did that mean she wasn't really a witch? What if it was all a great big mistake and-

Molly Weasley came then, in a flurry of patchwork skirts and a clutch of red-haired hazards scurrying about her legs.

Short and plump, still wearing her flour-mottled kitchen apron, the woman had a kind face. The kindest Hemlock Potter, mistreated and misused Hemlock Potter, had ever seen before.

Utterly different to Petunia Dursley's sour, hawk-like scowl. A mother's face, Hemlock would remember thinking. Molly Weasley had a mother's face, and that was precisely what Hemlock needed.

Molly smiled at her, bright, warm. So warm. She had gentle hands; Hemlock remembered. Gentle and tender, so unlike Vernon's meaty snatches and Petunia's prickly pinches.

She showed Hemlock how to get through the barrier to Platform Nine and Three Quarters which, left alone, Hemlock would have never figured out.

How do you think of running headfirst into a brick wall?

Nevertheless, the gratitude came later. When, after discovering her name through a spluttering Ron, Fred and George came dashing off the train to tell their mother "The black-haired kid" was actually Hemlock Potter. The Hemlock Potter.

Molly Weasley hadn't cared.

She had been just a child to Molly. A lost, confused child in a world too big and too strange.

A child that had needed help.

Even when Ginny pleaded to be allowed on the train to see her, with clasped hands and big blue eyes that normally led to her having her way, just to see a glimpse of The-Girl-Who-Lived, Molly shook her head and told the young girl Hemlock wouldn't want to be gawked at like an animal in the zoo.

Hemlock, at age eighteen, when she would ponder on her life and marvel how the hell she had ended up sandwiched between two Prewetts, dining on another Sunday Lunch at the Burrow, wedged between people who, had she not done what she had, should rightfully be dead and buried, and she spotted Molly there, smiling over a roast chicken, stomach rounded with Ron, thought, perhaps, it was that day, so many years ago, she had begun to love her sister-in-law.

So much so she had chosen to fuck the timeline up.

Hemlock Potter wasn't sorry.

She got what she wanted.

She saw Molly smile openly once more.

Thoughts?