CHAPTER FIVE

It'd been two weeks since Ginny gave her memoirs to the Skeeter family to publish. Their connections had proven handy, and while Harry's sob story rocked millions across the globe, Ginny's memoirs about their troubled relationship spoke louder. People supported her, hoping she would be found safe and sound and not as another victim of Harry or Ron.

Ginny was reading when the woman returned with news from New York. Ginny allowed her inside. She was no longer reluctant to work with her, though she was reluctant to return to the city. She was going to try to change that, Ginny thought, fixing them glasses of tea in the kitchen.

"They found a female body in Central Park last night," she whispered, sighing heavily as she wrapped her hands around an empty mug. "All they know is that she's about your height, about your build, and about your hair color. Someone blew her brains out. The hole in her skull is huge. She was likely killed instantly."

"What does this have to do with me?" Ginny asked. The woman shrugged, smiling gently. "They're going to say she's me, aren't they?"

"They don't have much of a choice, unless you come forward. If you don't say you're safe, they'll think you're her and stop trying to identify the body by other means. The coroner covering the case knows you're missing and knows that you fit the profile. He's not going to care about the details, and this could jeopardize the entire case. They know they didn't kill you, and polygraphs will confirm while the jury sits there confuse. On their first appeal, if counted guilty, they'll win on a technicality. Any time served will disappear; their records will be wiped clean."

"I'm not going back to New York. I've done enough to make sure they'll go down. Use your connections, do something other than beg me to go back," Ginny pleaded as the kettle whistled loudly.

"You have no choice this time. Just for the day; we'll pick with the courts which day will be perfect. You should make a statement, testify through that. Put your memoirs under oath or something. Once you get everything in order, you can just disappear again. You can live forever as Jasmine, if that's what you want. Your children have been approached. They want answers about their mother. Their father died to them the day he wouldn't fly them back, stranding them in England for a very dangerous summer. If it weren't for the family friends your father had there, they'd likely be in the English foster systems by now, abandoned entirely. If you want them, they'll be there, but you have to make things right."

Ginny sat down hard on the dining chair, staring at the mug she'd left steaming on the counter. She could not allow things to go down the way they wanted to, but she couldn't face that city again, the city that stole her life and forced her to live as a prisoner for years, or at least in Ginny's mind. She knew from scattered reports that people weren't buying her tale's epilogue, the part where Harry tormented her in her work for ten years. She could've left at any time, yet she stayed, taking the abuse day after day. Abuse victims knew this was a sign of the abuse, but to the outside eye, Ginny was a weakling who begged for the abuse she received.

"You're not even thinking about this, are you?" the woman asked, tears falling down her face. "You've got to make things good on your half. You're the only one who can do it."

"I can't face that city, not after everything," Ginny choked, shaking her head as she stood to retrieve her mug. "Harry and Ron did enough to get what they deserve. A random body in the park should have nothing to do with it. Your connections from your aunt are strong, you claim. Use them and not me; I've done nothing to warrant that."

"Her hands are tied, Ginny! So they could claim it was a hit man or a random attack on you. Either way, your children no longer have a mother and their case could blow open and freedom could be theirs! Make things right. One day in the city, that's all we ask."

"No," Ginny whispered. "There are too many things going on. I'd rather stay here, hidden from them. And if you threaten that, I've got connections elsewhere. Jasmine told me I could pose as her to visit her parents at any time. Even if they did find out, my story would be enough to gain their sympathy and trust. I've got my backup plan. Don't you dare ruin that for me."

"Fine," she sighed, pushing away her mug. "I thought you'd want to do the right thing. You lost your children because they were pulled from you, but that body is someone's daughter. They'll want to know she's dead, not just missing. They'll want to know the answers. Besides, do you really want your ailing mother to hear you're dead? She's still alive, Ginny, still rotting away in a facility that your worried father visits every day after work. They're still here to get the news. Do you really want to do that to them?"

Ginny pondered the thought of her parents for a moment. She'd lost contact with them after the divorce. Her father thought Harry was her true love, the answer to all her prayers. She'd liked him for years, so the relationship was a blessing. He was already a part of the family, staying with them through the summers and spending time with everyone. He was their golden son-in-law who could never do any wrong. They begged her to rethink the divorce, saying that every marriage had its flaws—though they would never admit the flaws within their own. They begged and pleaded and prayed that Ginny would change her mind, then the letters stopped when she quit responding.

"I'm already dead to them. It'd be a relief to know that I can't kill their dreams anymore," Ginny whispered. "Go, please," Ginny said, pointing to the door. The woman nodded, leaving a note on the table. They were the known court dates, though Ginny could just check the news to know when the next ones were. The case was being covered all over the country, even on Jasmine's basic cable.

With the house empty, Ginny drank both glasses of tea, flipping through the pages of her book blindly. Her eyes would pick up random words, but they never meant anything. Nothing meant anything. Ginny wasn't giving up, but she wasn't going to join the battle anymore. She quietly wondered if that was the same thing as she drifted into a restless sleep.

The trial was still going two months later. The body, identified as Ginny Weasley by the medical examiner, had become their poison. Both passed tests saying they didn't kill her, and both knew the body in those pictures wasn't Ginny. Something was off about everything, even though the body was a battered skeleton covered in Central Park soil.

The verdict would come in mere days, but not until one more witness took the stands. She'd been called in as an emergency witness for the prosecution, a one-day affair. The judge allowed it because strong allegations were made that could derail the entire case: The prosecution claimed it was Ginny herself.

She was testifying from an undisclosed location miles from the courthouse, or at least that's what they told the courts. She sat nervously in front of a flickering camera while the stunned courtroom watched. Her hair was its normal color and length, her face still as alive as it was before she left, though neither defendant could really know what she was like. Both were pale, looking at the figure like they were seeing a ghost. The only thing proving she was real was the district attorney sitting in the background, a rare sight but needed for the proceedings.

"Do you have documents proving you are indeed Ginny Weasley?" the judge asked, a look of contempt on his face. He thought it was a ploy, but he would let her speak.

Ginny had the documents, but they were actually in evidence. The court produced them, but the judge shook his head while muttering under his breath. If she was who she says she was, she'd have identification. More tests would be needed, and he stopped her from testifying.

"Your Honor, I know this is an interesting situation," the prosecutor laughed nervously, "but she won't return after today. She's going back to the new life she built for herself, and she will not disclose her new identity to the courts. She's used her resources to do her own witness protecting, if you will."

"She has to be identified. I won't have an actress sitting in the witness chair, and I won't have fraud! This case is too important for this to go wrong now. She's dismissed from her duties. She's ruining everything!" the judge roared.

"Please, Your Honor, it's me, Ginny. I've got a full statement ready, starting with my story. Who else could tell my story better than me? People have read my memoirs, but only I know what wasn't written, the few details I left out as insurance," Ginny pleaded. The judge scoffed, looking down to the space in front of him. He was irritated, tired of the interruptions. Ginny knew from television that the defense constantly delayed the court for motions, so much so that they had to get motions approved by the district attorney before bothering the courts again. It worked, but there were still details to be ironed out that would take days. Ginny could mean more hiccups, more slowing, and even the jury was getting restless with all the confusion.

"I won't have it. Who approved this in the first place? Ten minute recess to work through this madness!" the judge screamed, rushing towards his chambers.

"She said it would work!" Ginny cried. "I came back to this city to give them a message, but no one's listening!"

"Calm down, Miss Weasley. He can't accept just everything. To the court, you've been dead for months now. You have to understand—" the district attorney pleaded. But Ginny wouldn't listen. Her fragile mind was broken, shattered by her journey back to the city that had ruined her life.

"Record something for me, please, and leave the room while I do. I have to speak. I have to get out my thoughts," Ginny hissed, pointing to the camera. The district attorney did as she asked, leaving the room for her to speak.

The explosion rocked the building with enough force to knock people down. Dust covered everything as alarms blared. People tried to rush forward to escape the danger, but too much was in the way. Besides, the building itself was unstable, and anyone above the first floor had to contend with an odd shaking that made it impossible to get one's bearings and get out.

The building collapsed a minute later, trapping everyone inside. Days, weeks, and months later, there were still bodied unaccounted for. Ginny was gone, her video the only thing found of her. She told Harry exactly what she thought of him, and she apologized to the innocents that would be hurt because of him. She then set the charges in front of the camera, pulling them out of her large handbag and from pockets sewn under her clothes. How she'd gotten through her day without blowing herself up, no one knew, but they did know that she was the culprit.

Harry and Ron were both killed with the same support beam. Their lawyers, a couple from Long Island, escaped with only minor injuries—the break room up the hall from the courtroom was built next to the elevator shaft, helping it remain more stable when the building collapsed. Fifteen or more people were saved by situations like that, but Ginny's antics killed over a hundred people. She was a wanted woman whose children were now against her, saying her actions were a part of the pure evil polluting their world.

The Skeeter family never commented, though they knew nothing of Ginny's plans. No one did, and no one knew where she was now. The explosion happened ten seconds after the video ended, enough time for her to get out through the entrance of the court house—she was really on the first floor the entire time. The only other thing she left was a letter apologizing to the families. It was soaked in a fireproof resin, protecting it from the blast. She made sure the world saw it was all Harry's fault, though the world retaliated against that. Ginny was the one who killed those people, and now Ginny was the enemy.

Jasmine smiled as she entered her home. She never planned on coming back to the States, but after seeing the news, she knew she had to come back.

As she stood in front of her bedroom door, a reflection looked back to her. Their hair was the same, their eyes, their expression. Jasmine smiled to herself. She was happy to help a friend.

~END~