A/N: This was written for Round 5 of the QLFC Season 7. All prompts used are listed at the bottom so as not to give anything away. Thank you for reading.

building foundations

'They had almost reached the motorway when Ginny shrieked that she'd left her diary' - Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

With one simple action, everything can change.

Ginny shouted, complained, and fought with her brothers for the whole journey before she finally gave in. Eventually, she realised her Mum wasn't going to let them turn around and go back to the house. Molly breathed a deep sigh of relief when they all made it through to the Hogwarts Express, with barely enough time for her to say goodbye and tell all of her children—Harry Potter included—to be safe.

In another world, the boys would not have been there. The Weasley parents would have been trapped on the platform by an anti-apparition ward until twenty minutes past the hour, by which point Ron and Harry would have taken Arthur's car on a jaunt to Hogwarts.

This is not that world.

"Write to us, Ginny. You're going to be wonderful; don't be nervous," Molly cried.

"Just make sure to send the diary Mum. Love you."

Molly had spent years watching the train take her children away but this time made her heart ache even more than usual. Arthur wrapped an arm around her waist and gave her a tight squeeze.

"Come on, love," he said softly when they were one of the last people remaining on the platform.

Molly shook herself from her melancholy thoughts of how quiet her home would be now, all of her birds having flown the nest, and took Arthur's hand, following him back to where they'd haphazardly parked the car.

Her husband was a good man. He had anticipated that she would struggle with Ginny leaving for Hogwarts. They spent the day out, visiting a few shops that weren't normally on their weekly rotation and had lunch in a pub overlooking a canal in the Midlands.

Eventually, however, they had to drive home. They fell into the normal routine for dinner, both of them waiting for an owl to say where Ginny had been sorted. In another world, if things had gone differently earlier in the day, none of this would have happened.

They would have turned around and gotten the diary. Their car would have been stolen, their youngest son almost expelled and Arthur brought in for questioning at the Ministry. Molly would have stayed up all night sick with a mixture of anger, worry, and frustration.

Instead, they got a letter from Percy saying that Ginny had been sorted into Slytherin and that he would look after all of his siblings They received another from Fred uttering much the same (apart from a promise to make Percy learn to smile), and finally, a letter from Ginny herself talking about the people she'd met on the train.

In another world, perhaps Molly would have sent the diary. That would have led to a chain of events that would shape Wizarding Britain for years to come, as the Boy Who Lived unknowingly came into contact with one of the Dark Lord's Horcruxes for the first time.

Instead, she sat at Ginny's whitewashed desk and dipped a crumpled quill in some ink, opening a leatherbound diary she didn't recognise. Recently, Ginny had been rebelling against all things overtly feminine so Molly was hardly surprised.

Dearest Ginny,

Congratulations on your sorting. Your father and I are very proud of you, as we always have been. I hope that you use this diary to record all of the wonderful -

The words started to sink into the page, as though the parchment was a sponge and then they disappeared.

That in itself was hardly curious. Diaries which made things written in it become invisible were quite common. Often there was a keyword or certain spell that only the owner knew to keep their secrets from prying eyes.

It was advanced for an eleven-year-old. No doubt Bill's influence, Molly told herself.

What was curious though, was when the diary replied.

Molly wasn't above lying to her children. What they didn't know couldn't hurt them, after all. She was, however, always truthful with her husband.

"It's much too advanced to be some sort of charmed diary pretending to be a friend," she said, frowning. Arthur hummed and then cleaned his glasses on his nightshirt, getting into bed.

"And you asked where Ginny got it from?"

"No, Arthur," Molly said in exasperation. "I sent her a different diary along with a letter saying that I couldn't find the one she was looking for. If I mention this spelled diary now she might want it and the last thing Ginny needs is that. She needs to make real friends, not spend all her time with her nose stuck in this thing."

She waved the diary in the air, perhaps a little too dramatically.

"Of course, you're right. Well then, if Ginny's away from its influence why are you worried, dear?"

It was the 'dear' that put Molly slightly on edge. Arthur had been treating her with the utmost care recently as though worried she was going to fall apart now all of her children had 'flown the nest'.

"I'm worried because it seems improbable that this is simply a diary. It seems to have a consciousness, even an agenda Arthur. It's trying to get to know me, uses a name and… It doesn't make sense."

"If you want, I can take it into the office and have a look at it," Arthur offered. "But you and I both know you are a highly skilled witch. Perhaps this is an opportunity to get back into curse breaking."

Molly felt a wave of affection for Arthur wash over her. It would have been easy for him to trivialise her concerns. Instead, he supported her and didn't even try to imply he would be more capable of handling it. He knew her better than she did herself and he thought she could handle whatever secrets this diary held.

Her career as a curse breaker had been short-lived yet illustrious. Molly had always known she wanted to be a stay at home mother, but she had loved learning and solving puzzles. She had been promoted at a rapid rate and become an infamous name within the industry after solving several difficult cases. For her to then leave her job when she was at her peak furthered people's curiosity.

As the years had gone on, most had assumed that Molly had lost her touch. Even her children thought she was a typical 'Mum', not realising that it was curious she could help them with their OWL and NEWT-level homework, or that when most of them had been at school she had done some freelance work.

"Thank you for supporting me," Molly said softly and gave Arthur a soft kiss that made him blush. "I'll start investigating tomorrow. There's just something off about it and I have to know what it is."

"You'll solve it," Arthur said, with all the confidence in the world and Molly felt some of the tension in her bleed out. He believed in her. She should believe in herself too.

Molly Weasley went to sleep, determination still thrumming through her veins and the world turned ever so slightly on its axis. Change was brewing, a change that would change and shape the world forever.

I want to get to know you better Tom. I wish we could talk face to face.

Tom Riddle was not as enigmatic as he believed. Molly had learnt he had been a Slytherin and that he had gone to school years before her. That was when the first alarm bells had gone off in her mind. He wrote with smarmy charm and coy manipulation oozing from each word, but Molly did her best to act like a shy housewife desperate for attention and he seemed to take the bait.

They were both playing with each other. Molly just had to keep one step ahead to win.

It wasn't always easy.

Some things that Tom said or questioned were enough to make Molly enraged and other times she could feel herself getting attached to the Diary or whatever entity was inside it.

On a hunch, she had sent a few letters to old contacts and now waited as the wet ink sank into the page, for Tom to make an appearance.

Nothing would please me more he scrawled back.

I think I know a way.

She barely waited for the letters to disappear before she was drawing runes around the diary and murmuring a long incantation.

Everything around her went black as her stomach lurched, the world disappearing around her.

Molly let herself acknowledge her fear and then pushed it away. All she had to do was confront Tom and explain matters. Then it would all be sorted and she could start on the beef stew she and Arthur were going to have for dinner.

"What have you done?"

A clipped, aloof voice came through the darkness which surrounded her. Molly turned her head, searching through the inky black and slowly her surroundings seemed to fade in out of the gloom. The room they were in was a large study, the walls in gleaming black marble with a flickering fire barely illuminating the bookcases and writing desk. Apart from that, it was minimally furnished. Everything had a purpose.

A diary was open on the desk, identical, Molly noticed, to the one she had left on the kitchen table.

"I told you," Molly said, taking a breath and smoothing her hands over her skirt. "I wanted to come and see you. Tom, there's no easy way to say this but—"

She saw it, the moment he turned the charm on. Her appearing had clearly thrown him, draining some of the colour from his skin he was already so pale. Was that because of the diary, the form he was trapped in? The poor boy needed a good meal in him, but he pulled himself together quickly.

"Molly, wanting to come and see me is so very sweet. I'm touched." Molly kept a soft smile on her face, uncomfortable as the teenager came over to her. "What we have is important to me, you being here just makes it all the more real."

"Why is it important to you, Tom? Is it because you want to live again?"

The flash of rage and fury across his face was unmistakable. Molly didn't give him a chance to pull another mask on but took a step back, crossing her arms and putting her strongest disappointed voice on.

"I was able to acquire the Ministry's records for you. There's only one Slytherin named Tom Riddle that's ever gone to Hogwarts in the history of the school. You were such a gifted young man, you won so many awards and got O's, you had so much promise. I'm sorry that you died Tom, I am but you can't possibly think that possessing people is acceptable. You are smarter than that."

He opened his mouth, closed it and frowned sharply. Molly had the distinct feeling that no one had ever spoken to him so directly before.

"I did not die," he said finally. "You are a foolish woman."

"Do not talk to your elders like that. You disappeared when you were in your early twenties after you made this diary. I don't want to know why you did or what you did to do it, I can feel how dark the magic is. But I will not… Oh Tom, take a deep breath. This isn't the end of the world."

She had not meant to comfort him, but the sight of a young man with his eyes wide in shock had her speaking without thinking.

"I don't understand," he said softly. "You should not be able to be here. You should not be able to do any of this."

He turned his back to her then spun abruptly on his heel and pointed a wand at her.

"Leave. Leave now."

The spell hit her before Molly could defend herself. She didn't feel anything until she hit the floor in the kitchen of the Burrow. Everything span around her as she struggled to catch her breath and then she succumbed to the comforting black blanket of unconsciousness.

Tom ignored any of her attempts to contact him via writing in the diary for three months. Occasionally she felt the thrum of his magic, a feeling she was familiar with now, but Molly had read up on ways to ward against possession and was attending an Occlumency class.

The next time they spoke, it was because she had touched the diary and Tom had pulled her back into the study against her will. Molly had scolded him until he had looked like he was contemplating either simply killing her or awkwardly apologise. He did neither but he did let her leave.

Slowly, very slowly, Molly kept talking to him and tried to uncover the truth.

For a ghost to possess an object was incredibly rare if not impossible. She was still researching it.

Tom knew more than he was letting on but Molly didn't push. She recognised that whatever had happened, he was a young mind and had a twisted view of the world most likely due to trauma and abuse, given some of the things she had picked up on in his writings.

It was in April when she asked to visit again. Slowly, Tom wrote back that 'that was acceptable'.

She was prepared for the blackness and the sensation of falling this time. What surprised her was the study. The walls still gleamed, the writing desk was where it always had been but on the chaise lounge, there was a deep green knitting throw.

"Don't look at me; I didn't do it," Tom said bitterly. Molly had to force herself not to smile but she nursed the warmth that bloomed in her chest.

She was influencing him. It was slow going, but she was having an effect.

"Of course not. Now, how are you feeling?"

It was an inane question and he gave her a look which expressed as much, but Molly kept talking. Every word he listened to was another moment she counted as a win. As she talked to him over months, Molly had realised that whatever his history was, Tom was a sixteen-year-old boy who was trapped and confused.

Molly had always wanted to be a stay at home mother. Despite all of her other accomplishments and talents, that was the one she was the most skilled at. Befriending the elusive young Tom Riddle and changing him would be a true test but as Arthur reminded her, Molly was a particularly determined witch.

That would never change.

A/N: Chaser 3 - Write about the things that could happen inside a 'space pocket' where the inside is bigger than the outside.

As an aside, my thoughts went immediately to the TARDIS and then to the Diary. I like the idea of there being a small world in the diary where Tom is physically writing back and plotting world takeover shenanigans.

Optional Prompts Used: - Determination (emotion), - Black (colour) and - "Don't look at me, I didn't do it." (dialogue)