Chapter 89: 8th September 1991, Sunday: Part 4

Although digging into his two new friend's family trees sounded fun, George had a more pressing matter to attend to. He had to concentrate on fixing his alarm clock since he had gradually been feeling it getting hotter for the past few minutes. If he'd talked to Quinton and Grant any longer, the clock might have burnt a hole right through his pocket. On his way up the moving staircases, George pulled the alarm clock out and saw the little hammer glowing red-hot again. The erratic magical waves pulsating at an ever-increasing rate gave him the impression it was about to explode.

Stopping the alarm right before the clock was about to activate must have left the overcharged enchantment in a primed state, it was clearly not designed to hold a load for long. If George didn't let the alarm discharge in the next couple of minutes, it was definitely going to blow up in a shower of sparks. There was only one place he could go where no one should be able to hear, the girl's bathroom. There was no doubt Myrtle would have a giggling fit at his expense once she learnt about his mistakes. Then she will take great pleasure in explaining how stupid he had been. Regardless, George took a deep breath and kept running to the bathroom whilst mentally preparing himself for the condescending cacophony of criticism.

Once he arrived back at the bathroom, Myrtle couldn't even get a word out before George set the alarm and activated it. Then a lightning bolt, the length of a car, shot out of the clock and struck one of the cubical doors. As a result, the door was set on fire. George had to quickly pull a plastic jug of water out of his enchanted sack and douse the fire before some magic fire alarm was set off. As one could imagine, Myrtle had more than a few grievances with her bathroom being set alight. Luckily, after George explained how inept he'd been in 'enhancing' the bewitchment, she seemed to find the funny side.

Just as George had anticipated, Myrtle did not help him at any point during the several hours he attempted to stabilise the alarm clock's bewitchment. Instead, she spent the entire time giggling to herself whilst floating above his head. She had been both physically and mentally looking down on him as he was attempting to work out how to salvage the nearly destroyed bewitchment, some days he questioned if she had lost her empathy after her death. She knew how to fix this mess, but as penance for his arson, she was just going to watch him struggle. George had to look on the bright side, at least she didn't kick him out of the bathroom.

Even without Myrtle's help, George did eventually find out what he'd done wrong in the Library. It turned out that he had been massively overestimating the amount of power needed to amplify the alarm clock. With hindsight, his shocking spell only needed around a second to have the desired effect. His experience with producing the Calming Draught had been his downfall since it had distorted his perception of timing. Most steps in the production of the potion were slow and proceeded over several minutes, hence why potion masters required outstanding patience to produce this particular brew. But as he'd come to learn the hard way, Charms and enchantments were a whole other ball game.

Overcharged by over a factor of ten, the alarm clock's bewitchment was on the verge of collapse which was why it was getting so hot. Unfortunately, fixing this issue was not as simple as creating it. George knew that he was in a spot of bother when the first suggestion he recalled from the book was to simply start the bewitchment again with a new muggle artefact. Using his as-for-mention bike analogy, undoing a bewitchment enhancement was like trying to cycle backwards. In a roundabout way, the book was telling him to give up and start again. Since he did not want to discard Remus's present and the fact he didn't have another alarm clock to replace it, George opted for the laborious task of attempting to repair the clock.

To those who were mad enough to do so, removing electrical charge required a slow and extremely delicate process of draining the bewitchment of the excess energy with a spell of the opposite element. That meant George had to use a nonconductive spell to absorb the electricity. This process took an absurd amount of time but showed promising results. After three tedious hours, the clock stopped getting hotter and instead started to cool down. This happened to be where the good news ended as the cooling process resulted in the clock's hammer becoming brittle, and small bolts of electricity arced from out of the newly-formed hairline cracks.

According to George's memory, this meant that the bewitched item had reached its limit and could no longer be modified in any way without the artefact disintegrating. He was inclined to believe the book since he could physically feel unstable energy emanating from the clock like static from a television. In his desperation, he had even tried to ask Myrtle for support but she was still more inclined to say nothing and continue laughing at his failure. George guessed that she wasn't just being completely inconsiderate, she probably didn't have a solution and wouldn't want to admit it since it would make her look less knowledgeable. Her ego was almost as fragile as his clock.

With no other option, George wound the alarm clock so that it would activate after a minute just like he had done in the Library. It was going to be the first test and he had no idea what will happen. He had gone from confidently predicting the outcome of his modifications to just praying for the best, the best being that it wouldn't explode in his face. George was gritting his teeth and squinting his eyes as the small hammer started rattling back and forth, the loud ringing noise filled the bathroom. Myrtle flew to her window sill and plugged her ears with her fingers, her wicked smile suggested that she was banking on a spectacular failure.

The sparks of electricity grew larger and larger as the hammer continued to strike the bells in quick succession. Just as the small bolts of lightning were starting to hurt George's eyes, the ringing stopped and a bright blue ball of electricity emanated from the little hammer and slowly flew toward him. The bewitchment had miraculously worked and had sent him a small charge of electricity to shock him awake just like before, the only difference being the intensity of the light. George felt almost giddy in anticipation for the glowing orb to reach his skin, he willingly held his hand out so he could see how the intensity might have changed. He hoped that the power hadn't diminished too much by his amateurish interference, there was a small possibility that it was still usable.

The orbs course changed slightly as it homed in on George's hand, more specifically his outstretched finger. Once the orb made contact with his fingertip, he was overwhelmed with an extremely violent pain which shot through his entire body in an instant. As if he had just touched an exposed mains wire, he felt like a bolt of lightning travelled down his arm, through his chest, and down his leg. All of his muscles simultaneously spasmed which caused him to leap into the air from a seated position. His back violently hit the burnt door of the cubicle which caused it to swing open with such force that the hinges broke off. He continued to fall back against the toilet and his head hit the basin with a loud bang.

If he had been a cartoon, George would have had birds flying around his head as he was overcome with nausea and temporarily didn't know where he was. His entire body felt fuzzy and numb. His right hand, which had touched the orb of electricity, spasmed uncontrollably. After a few seconds passed of George regaining his bearings, he heard the sound of Myrtle's voice coming from outside the cubicle.

She called out to him, "hello… hello… George? Are you alright? You better not have died, not here. I'm not sharing the toilet so you'll have to find somewhere else to haunt."

George didn't feel in the mood to give her a response, he was too busy trying to work out what had happened to him. One minute he was testing the alarm clock and the next he was lying down in a cubicle, he didn't recall anything in between. He unsteadily climbed to his feet whilst using the toilet to pull himself up, his legs felt very numb and were barely under his control. He slowly walked forward, pushed the cubicle's door to one side, and was greeted by a curious Myrtle looking back at him. Any concern that she may have had for his welfare vanished the moment she laid eyes on him, she immediately broke out into hysterical laughter.

Myrtle was laughing so hard that she keeled over whilst cradling her hands around her waist. Perhaps for the first time, silver tears were running down her face for a reason other than being upset. Still somewhat dazed, George couldn't understand what had gotten into her to induce a reaction like this. Since it had to be something to do with his appearance, he went over to the pillar of sinks so he could see his reflection. Once he reached a sink and stared into the mirror, he immediately realised what was so funny. All of the hair on his head was standing on its end, including his eyebrows.

If his brain hadn't been fried, George would have probably started laughing with her as he was currently experiencing a delayed shock. It was at that moment that he realised exactly what had happened and how powerful his alarm clock had become. All he had been hoping for was to simulate the effects of touching an electric fence and yet he had managed to achieve the sensation of sticking a fork into a mains socket, he had really outdone himself this time. Before he could think any further, George reached down into his robe and pulled out the half-drank vial of Calming Draught and downed the rest.

Forget relying on a few drops to see him through the day, this unusual situation needed his full attention. The cool minty clarity travelling down his throat helped George decide on one thing, this was the end of messing with magic he didn't understand for today. Any more work would only come to his detriment. The alarm clock hadn't been the only thing that had fried his brain, the past gruelling seven days were just as responsible. He had pushed himself to his limit and exceeded it today just because he had become accustomed to working every waking minute. This way of life was not sustainable.

From what he'd observed of his decaying abilities, George's best judgement told him that the right medication wasn't a potion or a distraction, but instead rest and relaxation. As painful as it might be for him, he needed to spend the rest of the afternoon planning a relaxing schedule for the following week with a focus on doing absolutely nothing. Hopefully, waking up by cattle prod from now on would serve as a good reminder to himself not to ever repeat these mistakes again.

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