‘I dwindled and hurried, all too quick and all too knowing, through the mist of the moonlight, I began to see that it was snowing. In thick clumps it came, one right after the other, heavy chasms it made, so cold they made us shudder.
I wish that you could see it, eight times the charm, it’s my appearance that makes you fear it, that brings you alarm. When you came and touched the ropes, that held me up so high, it woke the misanthropes, that caused me then to die.
It is my home, I protest, my home! When will they realize. But the whiteness around us, engulfing us, ensnaring us, will one day amortize. It’s an illusion, it’s temporary, enjoy it while you can, for the clouds above will only disperse, to reveal their newest plan.
I never ate you, never swallowed you, never took your soul whole. It was my web that you shook, in the falling clumps, my house that you stole. Look around us, now, swimming in the liquid of despair. Do your aching lungs now show you, how foolish we were to care?’
In times of strife, in times of darkness, witches, wizards and even muggles pit themselves and others against one another. But there is no greater force than our destinies.
Even when things seem impossible, when you find yourself caught in a web, just remember that eventually the tides of time will do away with it – it cannot last forever.
Everything is temporary – those who hurt or do not appreciate you, situations that no longer uplift or help you, feelings and thoughts that occupy your mind and heart.
While remnants of the spiders web stays behind – new strings are built around them, and from them, a stronger web is built, ready for the next storm, and the next tide, and only to do it all over again.
In mourning and memory of Jimidius, a year on