Fine line white ink lettering reading expecto patronum in cursive script across the inner forearm.

Expecto patronum script on forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo is a cursive script reading expecto patronum, written in fine, even linework that runs diagonally from the lower left to the upper right of the forearm. The ink is white rather than black or coloured, so the letters show as pale raised lines against the skin tone. The soft, shallow-focus background keeps attention on the lettering.

Fine line Lettering Forearm Script Phrase Cursive

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The salt road out of Ashdown Wells ran dead straight for forty miles, and by the third hour the heat had got into the men's heads. Tomas Reyes walked at the back of the cart with his hat pulled low, listening to the wheels, because his grandmother had told him that anything following a traveller across the flats would turn to grey dust at the first call of its true name. She had made him say the charm until he could say it in his sleep. Expecto patronum, she had said, and nothing more, only a look that meant he must not wonder what it meant.

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At dusk the wind dropped and the sky went the colour of cold tea. Behind them something was keeping pace in the dust, low and pale, the length of a dog and then the length of a man. The carter, Eli Haddow, stopped the mule and swore it was the ghost of the Winterton sheep-dealer, who had died on this road owing money. Tomas felt his mouth go dry. He did not wait for anyone to ask him for anything.

He stepped down into the road, turned to face the shape, and said the words clearly, the way a child repeats a promise. The shape stopped. It was not a ghost after all, nor a dog. It was a silver-white hare standing on its hind legs in the middle of the track, watching him with the patience of something that had waited a long time for someone to get the name right.

The hare bounded off into the dark and the road lay quiet. Eli never did believe in it, but he drove slowly the rest of that night, and when they reached the well at Sarn he watched Tomas write the words in the dust with his heel for the next traveller, pale as chalk, so that nobody else need be afraid of the road.