Fine line black tattoo of a triangle, circle and vertical wand with the words Until the very end, sitting on the upper back.

Deathly Hallows symbol and script on upper back

Fine line · Back · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a person's upper back and neck showing a fine black linework tattoo of a triangle enclosing a circle with a vertical wand-like line through it. Script lettering beneath reads Until the very end. The ink is black only, the lines are clean and even, and the tattoo is centred on the frame against a light skin tone with framed artwork visible behind.

Fine line Lettering Back Deathly hallows Triangle Circle Wand Script Quote

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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 rain had been coming down on Clerkenwell Road since morning, and by four the stalls were mostly shuttered except mine, because Mrs Ollerenshaw never closed while she could still read the price tags. I sold odd things back then: clock hands, spectacle lenses, bent keys. The old man came under my awning with his collar up and set three things on the trestle without asking whether I wanted them.

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A stick of ash, as long as my forearm, pale and straight, with a knot near the top that looked like a closed eye. A pebble with a hole worn clean through its middle, the colour of wet slate. And a length of grey cloth folded so small it sat in his palm, which he shook out until it became a cloak, heavier than wool should be, drinking the light from the lamp. "I want nothing for these," he said. "Only a promise that you'll keep them until the very end."

I laughed and asked which end he meant. He only smiled and told me the pebble brought back what had been lost, the cloth hid its wearer from anyone who came looking, and the stick would make a thing do exactly what you told it, though it would never tell you what you ought to ask. Then he walked off into the rain without lifting his collar, and his footprints filled with water before he reached the corner.

I have them still, in a tin under the till. The stick hums when I take it out, faintly, like a kettle a long way off. I have never once been tempted to test any of it. Some promises are kept by leaving things exactly where they are, and I know where the three of them lie, one folded inside the other, in a tin that no one with a reason to open it will ever find.