Breaking Form: Too Many Cooks Spoil The Broth

("Why don't they just Vanish it?" "Shut up James!")

It's a few days before Sirius feels the Call. Enough time for the foreboding to die down, subsumed by everything else that takes up a thirteen year old's life- Quidditch, food, lessons, food, pranks, how big Slytherins' noses grow.

He's in Potions, heating beeswax in a cauldron absentmindedly, thinking that Professor Slughorn could probably squish Peter if he were tempted to sit on him, and he feels it. Like a spark, like somebody just chimed a tiny little bell, like the click of two magnets coming together, something shifting in his gut. There's a moment of ease and silence and quiet and then the pull. His arms feel bloodlost and pins and needles erupt in his toes, his heart racing and pacing and his lungs sucking in air, demanding him to move, he's stayed still for too long.

The traitor Black glances around the room and messes his hair back with one hand, the other loosely gripping his wand to direct the heat at the cauldron. Nobody else seems to have noticed him, nor has anyone else broken into hives or mad frenzies of jigs and bobs and running men on the spot. There's a surge of adrenaline that he knows is not him it's from his body but it's not him it's not him and Sirius looks down at himself abruptly, alarmed that if this is possible what else is possible.

He stands up, pushing his stool back with a screech that sounds like Medusa's dirty talk, ignores the stares and turns to James- "cover for me mate I'm feeling shite I really- I really need to go", and sweeps out of the room, bashing his shoulder on the door frame on the way out. He stumbles down the corridor, finding that as soon as he starts moving it's OK, it's better, he's moving and that's what his body wants to do.

The idea that his feet might be taking him to the bottom of the Black Lake crosses his mind with a flash of panic, but it seems to be alright because he runs for the tower and there's no pain or anything to tell him no, if anything his body urges him on, faster and more efficient than he has been before- the lactic acid doesn't seem to come like usual and he's storming up the steps, legs burning but not burning and why aren't they burning but he's already leaping between moving staircases and along to the Fat Lady's portrait, gasping out a password he's sure Remus told him five times over this morning but it's still the wrong one, and he's on his knees begging her he has to move has to get up there he has to find something.

The Fat Lady stares down at the panting heaving pile of robes that is currently masquerading as Sirius Black. The Black is an athletic child, prone to all sorts of mischief, but she has never seen someone who is not being chased by Slytherin Beaters so desperate to get into the common room. It is the wrong password- hasn't been used since twenty three years after she was painted here actually- and she suspects for a moment that transfiguration or a Polyjuice potion is in play. She bustles over to have a closer look at him and decides that even if it is an imposter, they've done a very good job and it's about time Sirius Orion Black had some payback.

She swings open the porthole to let him through.

Sirius for his part dives through the opening and in a manner like Tom Cruise stunts rolls neatly head over heels along the floor, narrowly avoiding a sofa, to arrive at his stairs. A fresh wave of energy and panic flows through him and Sirius knows this isn't him but whatever it is he's got to do it, thundering up the stairs to the second year's boys dormitory.

He sprawls into his room, eyes flickering manically and thinks this should be it, there is nowhere else to go from here- what more can they want from him? But no, now the itching nervous restless feeling is still here and telling him that he doesn't like heights- well why the fuck did his body make him run all the way up to the tower then? That's just illogical!

In an act of total idiocy, last resort and disregard for any conventions Hogwarts has ever had, he grabs the broom Mr Potter got for him last Christmas and leaps out the window, falling down the sheer slopes of the castle walls- praying to the magic that he won't plummet to his death.

He falls, faster and faster and the wind rushes and presses into his face and his eyes and his clothes are swinging wildly around him and he's not strong enough to pull his broom in closer to him and oh Merlin oh fucking Merlin he's really done it now, he's going to die and it's all because he was stupid and made a deal with a Kelpie and there's nothing to save him but the broom that's slowly being prised from his hands.

His shoe rasps against the side of the walls, jarring him, and he thinks this might be an opportunity for a better grip so he leans away from his broom, billowing robes shifting him into the castle walls- there was a fourth floor window by his knee- some astonished Divination sixth years- he's getting closer to the ground and faster still and it's a crushing pressure he can't breathe and his foot scrapes on the stone but theres one out of place 20 ft below him- 15ft- 10 ft, he closes his eyes and hopes and feels the judder as his legs crash up and its just enough to bring his broom down pinning his chest over top of it and bringing control back to the fall to swoop away and onto the grounds.

Sirius lands with a heavy thud- winded and buzzing and tingling joints from the impact, but joyously gloriously alive. When he can, he sits up, hair askew, and pumps his fist in the air. "I did it! I bloody did it! Did you see that?! Wooohoooo!"

There is nobody on the grounds to respond to him but he doesn't care, he stands tenderly and the grin on his face has enough wattage to power all of Scotland for a month. The celebration masks the fact that all his behaviour up to that point was based on pure irrational terror bolting through his veins and he has a small inkling of why.

The Gryffindor grits his teeth and clutches his broom tight to him, setting off wobbly towards the Lake.

"What the hell are you playing at?" He murmurs to the sky above, hoping that the blessed Merlin would be able to enlighten him a little more- or if not him, then Morgana, his mother's chosen saint-mage.

Instead of the sky, the water answers, familiar little ripples in the surface creating spirals and whorls and groans and puts his head in his hands, sinking down into a crouch. He is definitely not ready for this.

But instead of the Kelpie appearing with its weird hallucination-hypnotising thingymajig going on, the patterns tease him, prowling towards him and back along the shore line until Sirius gets the message that it's time to follow them. He sets off warily, broom half held as some sort of bo staff weapon (apparently they're popular with magicians in the east instead of wands. Sirius thinks that might be practical if you've got Chinese Cresteds lurking around). The soil and mud and reeds cling to the soles of his shoes with a wet shuck-shuuuuck sound as he pads along the water's edge, along to the far side of the lake. It's quiet, and the silhouette of the castle fades as the morning mist envelops him. It feels like somebody is blocking his way out.

The lake ripples again, plinking and swirling and directing him to stand still.

Sirius searches for the Kelpie in the mist but there doesn't appear to be anything remotely huge and loomy and evil and horse-shaped. What there are is little specks and glimmers of light, florescent sparkles along the crests and rims of the ripples. If he weren't on Marauder High Alert he might even be tempted to release a sigh. They seem soothing, peaceful. Innocuous, his inner Slytherin whispers, good bait.

A quiet laugh echoes.

Sirius freezes, eyes darting around, his jaw slack in concentration. He wishes 100% for the solidarity of his brother-from-another-mother at his back.

The Kelpie's shoulders rise from the depths, its head lowered as though grazing on the bed of the lake, glowing eyes turned towards the reeds and rocks. It nickers placidly when it spots him, returning to its inspection of whatever the bottom holds.

'No bait, Son of Man. I Called, and you came.'

"Yeah, I did." Sirius shifts awkwardly, not entirely sure what happens next.

'Tell me about Remus.'

The voice is its usual unnatural self, except for Remus' name- the Kelpie utters it in the very exact way that Sirius had said it the last time they spoke, like it was a tape recording, or an automated telephone operator. Its even weirder to hear his own voice back at him, resounding in his head.

"Remus? Well, Remus is- Remus is... he's kinda lanky, and he's got sandy brown hair, and kinda bluey-green eyes, and his robes don't fit him very well so I think it's kind of a shabby look, and when we first met he'd never been to a Quidditch match- imagine that, never seen Quidditch! so I insisted taking him over Christmas and now he supports Puddlemere United but he's not very good at flying anyway- anyway, he likes books and caramel chocolate and in the morning he always eats eggy toast and pumpkin juice..."

Sirius starts talking, and once he's talking he can't stop- his mother always used to call him a smart mouth before she charmed a switch to beat his ankle if he spoke in a manner inappropriate to the dinner table. He didn't realise that he knew so much about Remus but every little detail comes, and the inky horse stays quiet, ears twitching back and forth, listening intently, absorbed.

Eventually his mouth falls shut, and he's not entirely sure that he has any words left in him. The Kelpie feels safer, the way it hasn't pounced upon him immediately with its water-tendrils.

'You and James and Peter wish to help Remus to find a way to stop him injuring himself during the full moons?'

"Uhhh... yeah?"

'All three of you?'

"I think so? I mean James when he really wants something he really goes for it, you know? And I haven't seen him this serious since the Sorting Hat was dropped in front of him. We tried everything we know but Remus always looks at us like its nice we're trying but it'd just make things worse."

The Kelpie shifts on one leg, haunches tilting on one hock, looking at him consideringly.

'Ere there is a will, ere there is a way, Sirius Black. Disturbed waters come back to rest and clarity is restored.'

With this mystic prophecy bullshit apparently over, it snorts, sides heaving in a laugh that resounds off the water, and folds itself down beneath the surface- leaving Sirius in the mist, alone, clutching a broomstick with sodden robes.

"Wait! What's the way?!" Sirius calls out- but it's only his own voice coming back to him and with that he realises the Calling to the lake has lifted totally, all remnants of odd behaviour seeping out of him, and he trudges out onto the banks, lifts his leg over the broom and soars back to lunch.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x The castle is alive and bustling with gossip- someone has hexed Arthur Weasley and he in turn knocked over a statue which concussed two Ravenclaws and left their wands pointed touching each other's tips gathering magical charge and then that caused a giant snow flurry on the second floor and THAT started a snowball fight and now Professor Slughorn is traipsing around the classrooms beckoning students to warm up frozen hands and promising them that there won't be any detention because he knows their father/mother/uncle/nurse's donkey and couldn't conceive of such bad character in the family.

Sirius gets pelted with snow (which emits a high pitched sneeze as it hits him in the side of the head- makes one feel dreadfully uneasy about the snow's composition) and he looks up to see the other three members of his brood cheerfully clambering about on a moving staircase, using it as a vantage point for sniper snowballs. James is crowing, cheeks reddened and glowing, arms held aloft in sportsmanlike showing- when along comes Lily Evans, eyes lifted to the heavens- at precisely the wrong moment for his palm to spasm and a snowball to shoot down her neck and in the back of her shirt. He guffaws, whooping loudly.

Lily absolutely looses it. Her cheeks flush a furious shade of rouge, darker than her hair, and her whole body ripples with indignation. She glares at him and then whips her head around, searching for something.

She stalks over to Sirius and growls, "Gimme that!", swiping his broom out of his hands, before rising like some blood tinted Valkyrie, flying up and up to the moving staircase where she proceeds to berate James and box him senseless.

Sirius turns to look for a teacher but as ever in these situations, McGonagall is nowhere to be found and Slughorn has toddled off somewhere out of reach. James calls out for his brothers-in-arms to help and save him (Lily is currently pinching his ears and pulling them away from his face) and Peter attempts to tackle Lily from behind but Remus gets in the way and they kinda tumble down the staircase together in an odd lumpy bumpy tangly mess, down into a corridor of safety...

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James later that evening elbows Sirius while they pour over a Charms essay. They're debating about whether the physical relation between the elbow and wrist angles has any effect on Incendio and Aguamenti charms, and have thirteen inches left of parchment.

"What was that in Potions this morning mate?"

Sirius puts down his quill and cracks his knuckles.

"I dunno its was really weird- it was like I wasn't in control of my body and I felt really shite- went up to the dorm and went flying til it passed."

"You think someone cursed you?"

"Dunno. Maybe I ate something."

"At Hogwarts?!" Sirius can understand James' incredulity- the kitchens make every possible kind of food amazing. He looks down at the desk and flashes the Potter a smirk.

"Florian Fortescue's little cousin is in third year, Hufflepuff- she was kind enough to share something from her trunk with me when she saw me looking rough."

"Was she cute?!" James immediately takes the bait and they consider the merits of ice cream and sweet treats and Hufflepuff girls.

Sirius doesn't know why he kept the Kelpie's Calling a secret- it seemed to have no consequences and was a bit pointless, but he'd still normally tell James things like that. Secrets are reserved for Quidditch spoilers, presents and the time he broke an old vase at the Potters' house and cast a Confundus charm.

He thinks that they'll be able to solve Remus' furry little problem by themselves anyway.

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A/N; Thanks for reading and the lovely PMs! Let me know if you want to see anything appear in the story, drop me a review! Next time: A full moon Aid attempt goes wrong... xx FeatheredBlades