Fine line black tattoo of the Deathly Hallows triangle symbol on the inner forearm, with cursive script partly hidden by a striped sleeve.

Deathly Hallows symbol on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A forearm rests on a rose-patterned bedsheet, with the hand relaxed to the right. The main tattoo is a thin black outline of the Deathly Hallows symbol, a triangle with a circle and a vertical line inside, and a cursive word sits further up the arm beside the sleeve. The linework is clean and the ink is solid black with no shading, shown in a soft, evenly lit close crop.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

You are the ferryman now, though nobody asked you to be. The old man who worked the pole died in the reeds last winter, and the river has not cared who steers it since. On the first evening of the new year three brothers come down to the bank, quarrelling over who was cleverest. Each has a gift to offer in place of a coin, and each gift is stranger than the last.

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The eldest lays a length of elder wood on the mud and says it can beat any blade in the kingdom. The second, a man with a drawn face, turns over a pebble with a hole worn clean through its middle and says it can call back whoever he has lost. The youngest offers nothing you can see, only a grey cloak folded so small it fits in his palm, and says it will hide him from whatever waits on the far side. You tell them the river takes coin. They laugh, and you let them.

The boat sinks under three weights, and you feel the water lean toward them as if it were curious. You take the wood, because wood is wood and you have split enough of it. You take the stone, because a stone can be carried in a pocket and forgotten. You take the cloak last, and the river goes flat as a plate.

On the far bank the youngest steps out of the cloak and into the reeds, and nobody sees him go. The eldest walks into the dark with his wood over his shoulder, and the second follows a few paces behind, turning the pebble in his fingers. You pole back alone with a coin in your pocket that nobody paid you, and for once the river is quiet.

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