Cundrie is in her room, staring at her copy of the pictures of the graffiti art. It's been a week since her first time drawing at the side of the Ministry, and there are more Aurors to watch over the walls, now. Not only do the three of them paint before the Ministry, but they've also painted before St Mungo's, Daily Prophet headquarters, an empty wall in Diagon Alley, pretty much any crowded area. No, Cundrie, Oliver, and Marcus are not yet a group, but hopefully, they can lead their fellow wizards and witches to leftism.

Now, Cundrie plans to draw Jesus but bloody and decapitated, so fucking great. This is breaking another law, not that she cares. Blasphemy should be a right, religion is an ideology and not a race and therefore should not be free from criticism. The three of them broke several laws already with doing this. Cundrie stared at Scabbers for a second before she opens her drawer, hiding the pictures of her previous drawings and taking out her latest design, continuing scratching the paper to add the blood drips.

"Percy?" Cundrie jumped, staying still as they hear the knock on their door. It was Ron. "It's time to eat."

"A sec!" Cundrie yelled back, hiding their design paper and taking off their t-shirt, hurriedly taking off their breast form bra and hiding it before they wore their t-shirt again.

"Y'know, you barely leave your room anymore-" Cundrie hears from the other side of the door. "I know you want to be a prefect so bad, but playing once in a while won't kill. You're the only brother who'd play with me, and I miss playing with you."

"I'm busy," Cundrie said. Cundrie heard the sound of a cane hitting the ground repeatedly and knew Ron has left the door. Cundrie stared at the drawing, maybe it's already gory enough. Cundrie hides the drawing in her drawer and exits her room, meeting her blind brother patiently waiting for her a few metres back.

"What do you want?"

"It's supper, you have a stomach?" Ron asked hypothetically and pitifully at them. "Let's go."

"Fine," Cundrie grumbled, closing the door behind them, going with Ron down the stairs to the dining room, where lies a plate of buttered shrimp and mashed potatoes. Cundrie takes a seat, taking some of the meal to their plate along with brown gravy, eating in silence. They can't wait for midnight.

"Look who finally descended from her tower!" Fred suddenly called out mockingly, and Cundrie suddenly looked up, feeling fear in her heart. Did they know? How can they know? She has breast form bras and gaffs and she often wears them, but she's not particularly out to her family yet.

"George!" Molly barked. "Be kind to your brother!"

"I'm not George-" Fred smirked. "Or am I?"

"Evening!" Cundrie jumped in their seat as the door to the Burrow slammed open, revealing Arthur thundering in, religiously kissing Molly's cheeks before sitting down. "Merlin, it's raining cats and dogs!"

"How was work, Dear?" Molly asked. "Have they caught the Graffiti Teens?"

Temporarily, the Ministry calls the leftist artists as Graffiti Teens because the Ministry has no idea who they are and the only clues they've gotten so far are the ones an Auror can give from the second night they've been active, and he recalls one of them being:
- a redhead with curly hair
- scrawny
- a young teen

"No, we haven't gotten a lead yet," Arthur grunts, scratching his head frustratingly. "These teenagers- they're a menace!"

"The Graffiti Teens?" Ginny asked, looking so interested as she leaned forth from across the table. Cundrie tried to look disinterested about the topic. "What'd they do now?"

"They drew a red hanger with the message 'NEVER AGAIN'!" Arthur exclaimed. "It's ridiculous! Right in front of St Mungo's! They're advocating for killing babies!"

"What do you mean?" Cundrie asked, pretending to be clueless. In truth, their insides were bubbling up. "It's just a hanger, we hang our clothes with it."

"No, that's not what it's referring to-" Arthur shook his head.

"What is it referring to, Dad?" Cundrie prompts again, faking innocence.

"You're too young-" Arthur shook his head. Cundrie pressed their lips together, sure. They were the ones who drew that, along with Oliver and Marcus.

"Tell us!" Fred requested, jumping from his table. "What is it?"

"Children-" Molly interrupted, not looking up. "This discussion is over. The Graffiti Teens have gone too far drawing that and you shouldn't know."

"But what does it mean? I need to know, Mum," Cundrie pushed. "If it's politics then I think I should know."

"I know you should not," Arthur interrupted, then face his 'son'. "Why are you so interested in them, anyway? Are you one of the members?"

"Percy? A member of the Graffiti Teens?" George interrupted, snickering. Good thing no one suspects.

"He's a nerd!" Fred exclaims. "It's impossible!"

"He may be-" Arthur suspiciously glared. Cundrie didn't answer as she kept forcing herself to eat, but felt unsettlement within her guts. Did her family know? How can they know? "Why do you look so nervous?"

"Arthur, enough," Molly interrupted. "He's maybe only nervous because you're accusing him of being in that group."

"Why do you think one would be so interested if he's not involved in the first place?"

"He was interested because it's politics and he's interested in politics, have you thought about that?" Molly asks. Well, not a total lie, but not the accurate truth either. Cundrie is enjoying this. "Percy, this conversation is over. Arthur, stop accusing Percy of something he didn't do."

Cundrie's body may seem calm from the top, but from the bottom, their legs can't stop kicking.

"Yeah, right. As if-" Charlie snorted, playing with his shrimp. "I doubt he can even cheat in essays, much less sneak out of the house at night to draw rebellious art!"

"Can we talk about something else, please?" Molly requested. "Charlie, how's Quidditch?"