Two matching blue outline animal tattoos on the tops of both feet, each with the word Expecto or Patronum in black lettering beneath.

Expecto Patronum foot tattoos

Other · Mixed · Photo

Two tattoos sit on the tops of a pair of feet, one on each foot. Each shows a blue outlined animal silhouette, with a stag-like antlered shape on the left and a horse-like head on the right, above black serif-style lettering reading Expecto and Patronum. The blue linework is bold and smooth, the lettering is solid black, and the plain dark background keeps the focus on the tattoos.

Other Stag Horse Lettering

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The Mabel Quill is listing against the towpath at Hollin Lock, and you are sitting on the coal hatch at two in the morning, pretending the cold is not getting into your coat. Your uncle has gone ashore with the torch to argue with the lock keeper's padlock. The cut smells of diesel and rotting leaves. Across the water, on the far bank where the hawthorns are, a grey stag stands perfectly still, its antlers spread like dead branches. That field has been fenced since spring, and you know this because you helped the farmer's boy stretch the wire.

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Your mother taught you the words the winter she left, at the kitchen table, with a teaspoon for a wand. Think of the happiest thing you have, she said, and then make it bigger than the fear. You had only ever managed a smudge of mist. Now you lift the boathook, hold it steady over the gunwale, and say it properly: Expecto Patronum. Something silver breathes out of the iron end and drifts across the water in a long, bright line, and the stag lifts its head as though someone has called it by name.

The stag steps down the bank into the black water without a splash. Behind it comes a horse, lean and quick, and the two of them stand together at the edge of the lock, watching you with an attention that makes the hair on your arms rise. Your uncle's torch swings round and stops dead on the water. He does not shout. He only says your name, very quietly, the way you would speak to a bird that has landed on your sleeve, and then he walks to the windlass and holds it out to you.

You wind the gates open together, slow and sure, and the barge noses into the chamber with its lamp lit. When you look back, the stag and the horse are still on the towpath, keeping pace with the boat as far as the lamplight reaches. They are not guarding anything. They are only going the same way, and for once you do not need to know why.