Eleven

The corroded, metal burglary resistors that extended from left to right - forming various rows, then up to down, (vertically) forming quadrilaterals of varying sizes went from rusty black to boiling lava red before letting out long, unending hisses like a vexed basilisk will as it melted under the palms of Gerey Wysalt.

The resistors became bright red liquids and fell onto the ground as dense blobs before burrowing into the floor - and walls as brown, charred holes and letting out a suffocating fragrance.

After a minute, Gerey was free and with a lot of difficulty, he climbed up his small window. 

As delicately as possible whilst trying to wrap his mind what was before him, he relaxed on the floating broom of Sir. Oswic and gripped it tightly (hoping it wouldn't catch fire) to avoid him swaying to the left, or right, then falling off.