Pencil sketch of the Hogwarts castle above the words Hogwarts is my home in decorative lettering, a flash-style design with no body placement shown.

Hogwarts castle with lettering design

Black and grey · Flash

A black and white pencil drawing of a large, turreted castle with pointed roofs and tall towers, shown in detail with hatched shading on the stonework. Below the building, the words Hogwarts is my home are written in ornate, shaded lettering that overlaps soft cloud-like strokes. The composition is centred on the castle with the text across the lower half of the page on a plain background.

Castle Lettering Text Tower

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Hanna Trewin had been walking the moor road for two days when the castle first showed through the cloud, its spires pricking up like the spines on a hedgehog's back. She stopped in the wet heather with her mother's spoon in one pocket and a stub of candle in the other, and she said aloud the thing her mother used to say over the porridge pot: a house is only stone until somebody calls it home.

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The carter at the last inn had warned her. The castle took in nobody who came empty-handed, and nobody could say what counted as a hand. The gate swung open before she reached it. Inside, a corridor of candles bent away into the dark, and a voice asked politely where she had come from. Fenwick End, she said, and the stairs began to turn under her like a slow mill wheel, carrying her past doors left ajar on other people's lives.

In one room a sailor mended a net that never grew shorter. In another a widow laid a table for four, and when Hanna asked why she stayed, the widow said the bakery down the lane still had her name over the door. Every room asked the same question, and every traveller had an answer that was almost right. Hanna had none. She sat on a cold step, lit her candle stub from the carter's matchbox, and in its small light she saw the kitchen window at Fenwick End, left burning every night for a daughter who was always late.

When she came down at dawn the gate was already open. She walked back along the moor road with the candle still burning in her hand, and when she looked round from the bottom of the hill, every window in the castle was lit, one after another, like a lamp being carried slowly upstairs. The carter says the castle only lights up like that for someone who has finally made it home, and he says it with the air of a man who would like to know the trick.