Small fine line black tattoo of the Deathly Hallows symbol, a triangle with a circle and vertical line, on the side of a finger holding a beer bottle.

Deathly Hallows triangle on a finger

Fine line · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

A hand holds a brown beer bottle with a Samuel Adams label, and a small tattoo of the Deathly Hallows symbol sits on the side of one finger. The symbol is a triangle enclosing a circle with a vertical line through it, drawn in thin black linework with no shading. The background is softly blurred, with the tattoo and bottle label in focus.

Fine line Hand Deathly hallows Triangle Circle Line

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Tamsin had been sent up to Carrow Mell to clear the fallen masonry from the postern, and by the second morning her gloves were worn through at the thumbs and she had stopped expecting anyone to come back for the barrow. The gatehouse had lost its roof before her grandmother was born, but the arch still stood, and above it, cut into a block the size of a loaf, was the sign the valley called the three roads: a triangle, a ring inside it, and a single stroke running straight down through the ring like a plumb line.

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On the third afternoon the mortar let go of a stone she had been prising, and she saw that the ring was not solid. Someone had left a hairline gap where the circle met the base of the triangle, and when she held her palm to it, cold air breathed back. Her master, Eli Harrow, who had cut lettering for the county for forty years and trusted nothing he had not measured twice, only shrugged and said the masons of that age liked a joke carved into a doorway for whoever came after.

She went back up alone at dusk with a lantern and a flask of tea. The stroke ran through the ring at exactly the angle the midwinter sun would take, and when the light came low across the valley it slid through the gap and lay along the flagstones of the gatehouse like a blade laid down. She sat in it until her fingers stopped aching. Below her the river showed a single bright seam, and she understood that whoever cut the sign had not been making a warning at all, only marking the one hour of the year when a person could stand inside the castle and see where the road went.

She walked down with the lantern unlit. In the morning she told Eli she would finish the postern, and he nodded as if he had known all along, and handed her the chisel with the worn handle.