Black and grey tattoo design drawing of the Deathly Hallows triangle, circle and line symbol with spread wings, a wand and bare branches, shown as a flash design without a body placement.

Deathly Hallows symbol with wings and wand

Black and grey · Flash

A black and grey drawing of the Deathly Hallows symbol, a triangle with a circle and a vertical line, with a pair of spread wings rising from the apex. A wand runs vertically through the centre, and thin bare branches extend from the corners and edges. The shading uses halftone stippling and grey tones on a white background, with fine scratch-like texture across the lines.

Deathly hallows Wing Wand Triangle Circle Branches Bird

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 third time the road bent north, the crows were already waiting on the dead juniper, as if someone had sent them ahead to read the weather. Under the passenger seat you kept the ash rod wrapped in oilcloth. The grey stone rattled loose in the ashtray with every washboard dip, and the cloak lay folded flat on the floor mat where the sun could not reach it. Forty miles of bleached scrub still lay between you and Vellan Cross.

Keep reading

Ansel at the depot had told you the three things were one inheritance split by a quarrel. The rod would settle any argument you ever lost, the stone would call back whoever you could not stop missing, and the cloak would make you invisible to anyone who came looking. He had laughed when he said it, then gone quiet and asked you to leave the stone on his counter. You had taken it anyway, because he had also said the dead keep their own hours, and you had none left to spare.

Vellan Cross was a petrol pump with no petrol, a tin sign and a row of wind-stripped poplars. A girl sat on the tailgate of a rusted pickup, a crow perched on her knee as calmly as a cat. She looked up when you parked and said nothing, only lifted her chin toward the road north. You knew the shape of her face before you knew why, and the stone in your pocket went cold against your hip, colder than the desert night had any right to make it.

You took the stone out and held it up to the last of the light. In its surface the road ran behind you, straight and empty, and every crow on the poplars had turned to watch. You set it down in the sand between your boots and walked to the tailgate. The girl slid off without a word, and when you opened the cab door the rod stayed in its oilcloth and the cloak stayed folded, while the stone lay where it fell and the birds lifted one by one into the dusk.