Three side-by-side photos of fine black tattoos: platform 9 3/4 on a wrist, Mischief Managed with footprints on a shoulder, and round glasses with a red lightning bolt and the word always on a

Three Harry Potter themed tattoos

Lettering · Forearm · Mixed · Photo

The collage shows three separate tattoos. The left panel has the bold numerals 9 and 3/4 in solid black on the inner wrist, and the middle panel has the script words Mischief Managed with a trail of black footprints on the shoulder. The right panel shows a simple outline of round glasses above the script word always on the forearm, with a small red lightning bolt above.

Lettering Fine line Forearm Shoulder Numeral Footprint Script Glasses Lightning bolt Always

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The ferry from Skerrow never docked at a numbered platform, only at a pier with a rusted sign reading Platform 9 3/4, its letters painted over twice by someone who clearly disagreed with the railway. Nell Garrow had walked past it every school morning for six years and never once seen a train. Her grandfather said the sign was a joke the council had forgotten to take down, and he said it in the voice he saved for lies he was fond of.

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The summer she turned eleven, she found his old folded map in the tackle box, the kind that showed footsteps moving across the harbour wall. Little ink feet crossed the tide line, stopped at the bollard, and turned towards the sign. Beneath them, in his neat capitals, were the words he always wrote on the back of letters: MISCHIEF MANAGED. She pressed her thumb to the paper and the ink smudged, which seemed the most honest thing about it.

At low water she followed the footprints across the slick stones, his round spectacles pushed up her nose, one arm mended with fishing wire after a fall years back. The little red bolt she had drawn on the frame in biro for luck caught the light. Behind the sign, where the wall should have been, a narrow gap opened onto a platform with one brass lamp, a bench, and a guard in a green coat who looked at her over a ledger.

'Garrow,' he said. 'Your grandfather still owes me a crossing.' She told him she only wanted the train to the mainland. He tapped the ledger and wrote one word under her name, the same word she had seen on the map a hundred times. Then the lamp went out and she was standing on the pier again with the tide coming in over her footprints. She checked the word in her hand. It was her grandfather's handwriting, and the ink was still wet.