Hand-drawn Hufflepuff house crest design in yellow, black and grey, with a badger over a striped shield and a blackletter banner reading Hufflepuff.

Hufflepuff crest with badger and banner

Neo-trad · Colour · Flash

A painted drawing of a Hufflepuff house crest, showing a badger in grey and black over a yellow and black striped shield. The word Hufflepuff sits in bold blackletter lettering across a curled gold banner, with swirling gold flourishes at the top and sides. Thick black outlines and marker-style shading give the design a bold, graphic finish, and pencils and a marker sit at the edges of the paper.

Neo-trad Lettering Crest Shield Banner Blackletter Scroll Stripe

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

When the fog came down on Carrow, the old woman counted the boats in from the quay and found one short. Only the Mary Ann was missing, with Tom Penhale at the tiller and his two boys in the bow. She lit the lamp in the window and left the door open, the way her mother had, because her mother said the sea listens for a door.

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Before the tide turned, a badger came up out of the gorse above the harbour wall. It was grey at the shoulders and black at the feet, and its white face was striped like the bunting on the chapel roof. It did not look at her. It went down the steps to the water and sat at the edge with its nose pointed out into the murk, and it waited there the way a dog waits for a gate to open.

Nobody on Carrow had ever seen a badger keep a vigil, but they knew the story of the hollow under the cliff, where a family of them had dug in before the first church was built. Each autumn someone left a crock of honey at the root of the hawthorn, and the badgers brought back whatever the sea had kept. The old woman went down with a lantern and a tin of biscuits and sat beside the animal. Hours passed. The bell buoy rang, then stopped.

At first light the Mary Ann nosed in past the rocks, low in the water and slow. Tom's boys were bailing with their caps. The badger had already gone back up into the gorse, leaving wet pawprints on the steps, black and neat as stitching. The old woman left the biscuits where they lay. The fog lifted by nine, and the honey crock was empty.