Chapter 80: 6th September 1991, Friday: Part 9

Myrtle looked confused after hearing such an off-topic question from George, but she answered it nonetheless.

"I think so, it was quite a long time ago. Why do you ask?"

George didn't answer the question but instead asked another, all the while he kept brewing the potion with almost all of his attention

"Did you ever see the tightrope walker perform?"

Myrtle, still very confused, responded, "I think so. What's this got to do with anything?"

George merely smiled and asked yet another question, "well, do you have any idea what is the most dangerous part when walking a tightrope?"

Myrtle looked to be getting a little angry after being asked so many meaningless questions, "I don't know, maybe when you're halfway across. Now can you get to the point?"

George ignored her annoyance and shook his head gently from side to side, "most people think that, but you would be wrong. The most dangerous part of walking across a tightrope is the last three steps, right as you're about to reach the end. It's on those last three steps where most professional tightrope walkers have lost their lives, the reason for this phenomenon is actually quite simple.

People can't help themselves and unconsciously think a few steps ahead of their actions, this is a good thing to do ninety per cent of the time. This instinct works well when you are in a good place and the future's looking bad, that way you can avoid the bad thing. But, what happens when you're currently in a bad place and the future's looking good?

The answer is it makes people complacent. Seeing a prosperous future within touching distance distracts them from the peril they are currently in. This is why people can gamble their lives away, they are simply so clouded by the potential masses of wealth they may earn that they don't see their life falling apart around them.

Do you understand why I'm telling you this?"

Myrtle was quiet for once and thought about what he said, she was taking his words of wisdom very seriously. George was happy to learn that people can still learn life lessons even after death, the saying that you 'can't teach an old dog new tricks' was clearly false.

Myrtle finally spoke after a few seconds passed, "are you saying that you're the tight rope walker and the potion is your tight rope?"

George briefly looked away from the potion and smiled at Myrtle, "exactly. You must always remember to live in the moment when you're putting everything on the line. There is no use thinking about what has been and what will be, the present is all that matters.

Although that's just my opinion, you don't have to take it too seriously".

George turned back to the potion and continued to stir, leaving Myrtle to think about what he'd said. He didn't really need to tell her any of that since it wouldn't benefit either her or himself in the slightest, but something about giving her advice felt right.

George checked his watch and stopped stirring at the allocated time, he was now on the final step of brewing the Calming Draught. Not being a hypocrite, he didn't contemplate anything other than his next action which was to put the final piece of lavender in the potion. He looked down and saw a bowl full of short stems of lavender he had pre-cut to fixed weights. He picked up a piece and was about to drop it in but, just as his hand was suspended over the cauldron, Myrtle pointed out the fact that there was a second segment of lavender stuck to the one he was holding. It must have been obscured by the palm of his hand.

George turned his hand over and saw the second piece of lavender, he took the time to look over to Myrtle and thank her for preventing the entire potion from being ruined. Just as George was about to separate the two pieces of lavender with his opposite hand, his hand gripping the lavender spasmed and he dropped both pieces into the cauldron. Time seemed to slow down as he saw the lavender falling, George's reaction time was faster than most so he moved his opposite hand across to try and catch it in mid-air. Unfortunately, he wasn't quick enough and the lavender fell into the cauldron, dissolving almost instantaneously.

A moment later and the liquid started to froth until it was pouring over the edges of the cauldron, George quickly turned off the Bunsen burner to avoid making a mess. The froth settled and the dull purple liquid was exposed to Myrtle's and George's horror. The potion had failed yet again, this time due to human error. Fury overwhelmed George as he hit the cauldron with his fist, the liquid turned to a brown colour upon making contact with the toilet next to him and vaporized soon after. The cauldron smacked against the wall and noisily fell to the ground which left two dents on both sides, one by the wall and the other by George's hand.

A bruise immediately began to form on George's knuckle and his index finger looked to be pointing in the wrong direction, it was most likely dislocated. He didn't care about his surroundings or his hand, he was already getting emotional because he knew he had run out of time. His chest heaved up and down frantically and his heart rate started beating at an ever-accelerating rate, his mind was cloudy with thoughts of failure. Myrtle was completely shocked by this sudden change in George's behaviour, she had never seen him get even remotely annoyed let alone furious. Even though she was dead, seeing George's angry face and clenched fists must have made her feel a little scared.

George was briefly broken out of his fury after seeing Myrtle's reaction, she was slowly floating back into the corner of the cubicle. The dregs of the Calming Draught kicked in and he regained his objectivity, he relaxed his fists and hid his anger the best he could.

He bowed his head while saying, "sorry for my behaviour", before leaving the cubicle.

George walked over to the pillar of sinks, leaving all of his equipment and ingredients behind, and collapsed to the floor. He rested his back against one of the sinks and cradled his head in his shaking hands. The potion was still in effect but the stress from failing his last attempt was fighting back, waves of panic and anger kept on flowing through his head on and off. His brief bouts of clarity were in vain as he couldn't come up with any solutions to his problem, he had well and truly ran out of time. There was no way he could create the potion in his current condition, neither his body nor mind was stable enough.

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After all he'd been through, George felt distraught knowing that all of his efforts and preparation over the past few months were going to amount to nothing. He had tried so hard and yet barely made it past the first week at Hogwarts. He might make it through the weekend without causing any problems but the moment that Monday came around, all hell will break loose. The fear of death didn't scare him but knowing that a large portion of his memories was soon to be deleted truly saddened him. The mission would not only fail but cease to exist in his mind.

George could feel his hands beginning to spasm and firey heat boiled in his stomach, it seemed that his emotions were starting to get exposed yet again. Whilst wallowing in his self-pity, George felt a cool sensation coming from his right shoulder. From prior experience, he knew that this meant Myrtle was beside him.

She sat beside him for a minute before saying quietly, "we can always try again, you have more than enough ingredients for another attempt."

George pulled his hands away from his face, exposing his bloodshot eyes to Myrtle. He saw that she was looking sympathetically at him.

George gestured with his shaking hands toward her, "not in this state. I've run out of time."

Myrtle looked toward George's trembling hands, which were shaking so violently that it looked like he was having a seizure, before biting her bottom lip at a loss for words. She didn't say anything after that which only clarified how terrible his situation was. He returned his hands to his head and looked toward the floor, he gripped his hair so tightly that he was almost pulling it out. Myrtle continued to sit beside him whilst probably trying to come up with a solution on her own. She didn't seem to like seeing George in such a state since he was normally quite calm, that's unless he had just come back from being bullied. If she had any doubt about the importance that this potion had to him, then this outburst would certainly serve as proof.

Myrtle cast her mind back to when she was still alive to try and remember something that might help George calm down. She had died during the Second World War and her mother had been at home caring for her whilst her father was fighting in France. Her mother had always been extremely worried for her father, and both of them dreaded getting a knock at the door informing them of his death. She had friends on the street that had that awful experience happen to them which only made the dread even worse. Some nights she couldn't sleep for the fear she'd never see her father again. There was one thing that she would do with her mother every night which always helped bring a smile to her face.

She leaned over and told George, "my mother and I used to listen to music on the radio and sing along when we were worried about my father. I always felt better after singing a few songs. It might help you."

George thought about what Myrtle said and a scientific research magazine he was subscribed to popped into his head. One of the articles inside the magazine was about a study that was determining whether distractions in a car affected the driver's judgements and reaction time. The distractions they tested ranged from other occupants talking to the driver to answering the phone, most of the results determined that they negatively affected the driver's response time and judgment.

One thing that deviated from those negative results was music playing in the car. They found that when the driver was singing along to a catchy song with a constant rhythm, it actually improve their concentration. They concluded that listening to music, as long as it wasn't too loud, actually improved a driver's performance overall. George hadn't considered muggle methods of controlling his overactive emotions, perhaps Myrtle was on to something. Then he remembered what he had purchased at the Muggle Museum and realised it would be perfect for this situation.

That modified boom box had been brought to Hogwarts for a different purpose, but George saw no reason that he couldn't use it for this as well. He reach down into the enchanted sack in his pants and felt around for the boom box, it had been buried underneath a sleeping bag and a tent. After a few seconds of rearranging the interior of the sack, George pulled out the boom box and the accompanying cassette tapes he had purchased over a month ago. Myrtle appeared to be astounded he had something like that on hand right after she had suggested listening to music.

She asked in bewilderment, "is there anything you don't have stuff down your pants?"

That was funny enough to briefly put a smirk on George's face as he assembled the boom box by placing his custom magic battery inside. The single process took a while due to his hands shaking. He looked at the pile of cassettes and saw on top of the pile was Bob Marley's 'Legend' which had been coincidentally playing in the Muggle Museum. Since reggae was known for its calming properties, George placed the cassette tape in the boom box as carefully as he could and pressed play.

Ironically, the first sound that came out of the speakers was Bob Marley's voice saying, "don't worry, about a thing. Because every little thing, is going to be alright."

Now what were the odds of that happening, it seemed that fate was laughing at his expense. If there was a god out there, then he must have been finding George's situation very humorous. Myrtle seemed intrigued to listen since she most likely had no idea what modern music sounded like. She'd told George during one of her many rants she found wizards' and witches' music quite boring compared to what she used to listen to back at home. Myrtle appeared surprised to hear something that she didn't recognise in the slightest, the man's voice probably sounded like nothing she had ever heard before. 

Myrtle asked George, "what type of song is that?"

George didn't look at her but answered nonetheless, "reggae."

Myrtle's face scrunched up, "that's not a real word. You just made that up."

George also scrunched up his face, he didn't understand why she would assume he would lie about something so well-known.

George asked her sarcastically, "you haven't heard of reggae before? Have you been living under a rock?"

Myrtle didn't seem to be impressed by George's attitude. She stuck out her bottom lip and turned away from him in a huff.

She angrily proclaimed, "well you can keep your stupid reggae music, and whoever that man singing it is, to yourself."

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