Colour traditional-style tattoo on the back of a hand showing a dark castle silhouette under a starry purple and orange sky, inside a crescent, with a Deathly Hallows symbol below.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Castle and Deathly Hallows symbol on the hand

Traditional · Hand · Mixed · Photo

A castle silhouette with pointed towers and lit windows sits beneath a night sky dotted with stars, framed by a purple crescent. A triangle, circle and vertical line symbol sits at the bottom of the design. Bold black outlines contrast with purple, orange and grey shading, and the composition is centred on the back of the hand.

Traditional Hand Castle Star Night sky Crescent Deathly hallows

Find an artist for this

Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The snow came early that winter, and by the second week of December the lambing shed smelt of wet straw and paraffin. Dad said the school on the ridge would send someone down for the eggs, the way it always did when the frost got into the henhouses. It was me who went to the gate that evening, boots unlaced, and found a thin man in a grey coat waiting with his breath smoking over the top bar.

Keep reading

He held out a folded paper with three shapes inked on it: a triangle, a circle, and a straight line running down through both. Old Mrs Pryor at the post office called them the founder's gifts. A wand that could not be beaten, a stone that called back the dead, and a cloak that hid a body from the sight of the world. Everyone in the valley knew the tale and nobody in it believed a word.

'Which would you take?' he asked, and I thought of the ewe we had lost in the drift, the one with the torn ear. I said the stone. He smiled as if I had passed a test I had not known I was sitting, and said the stone only ever shows you what you miss, standing behind your shoulder in the dark. I said I would rather see her than forget her. He folded the paper into my glove and walked off up the ridge without a lamp.

That night I counted the lit windows on the castle from the top field, one for each winter since Mam left, and found there were seven more than there ought to be. By morning the drift had slumped off the paddock, and the torn-eared ewe was standing by the gate, looking at me as if I had sent for her.