Two matching fine line black tattoos of the Deathly Hallows symbol with the word Always, one on each foot near the ankle.

Matching Deathly Hallows and Always tattoos on feet

Fine line · Ankle · Black and grey · Photo

Two feet rest on a textured grey carpet, each showing a small black tattoo of the Deathly Hallows triangle, circle and vertical line beside the word Always in a cursive script. The linework is thin and even, with no shading, and the ink is a uniform dark tone. The pair is shown side by side, with one foot slightly higher in the frame and the other in the lower left.

Fine line Lettering Ankle Deathly hallows Always Triangle Circle Script Matching tattoo

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The wall between Hollin Ash and the wood had been mended so many times that nobody could say which stones were original, and you were the one sent to fetch the crowbar when the frost heaved another gap open. Your sister had gone ahead with the mule, cursing the damp, and the path narrowed until the brambles closed behind you like a door.

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At the cleft where the wall met the oldest oak, a flat stone lay half-buried, and someone long dead had cut three marks into its face: a triangle, a ring inside it, and a single upright line running through the ring. Your grandmother had called them the Keeping Marks. She said you must never trace them with a finger, because the wood listened to fingers. You knelt anyway, scraped the moss away with your thumbnail, and found a word beneath the marks, cut shallow and crooked: ALWAYS.

You thought of your sister then, who had left for the coast at first light and had not written since the frost. She had sworn on that stone that she would be home before the blackthorn flowered. The wind dropped. Somewhere up the slope the mule began to bray, and the sound came back off the trunks twice, as though the wood were answering.

You set the bar under the fallen block and levered until it rolled. Beneath it lay a second stone, smaller, bearing the same three marks and a single word scratched beside them: HOME. You understood then that the marks were not a warning but a pair of gateposts. You fitted the small stone into the gap, sat down on the cold grass, and waited for the mule's bell from the far side of the trees.