Rain was lightly falling, as was typical on a London Spring night. Despite the city buzzing every single hour of the day, time seemed to have stopped. Nature hadn't, but there was no sound this night, as if for once, everybody in the city stopped. Stopped snoring, stopped shuffling, stopped breathing. Dogs barked at the door, waiting for their owners to let them out; cats jumping up on beds; pawing at legs; rats scouring in their cages, yet no one woke.

And because of this inhumane silence, a person running down the street is noticeable. The pounding of their footsteps and silent, quick breaths became a loud and known sound throughout the silent city. This person seemed out of breath, any sense that had been there left his mind.

The person was wearing a dark blue sweatshirt, one for the college he went to, the hood creating a shadow which fell upon the face. They sported dark, black in the street light, jeans covered in light coloured paint. They wore black sneakers, the sound of rubber slapping against the wet pavement being the most audible sound.

They were short for someone in college, just barely reaching five foot five inches, and was drowning in the sweatshirt, though that didn't stop them from running.

There was an object bundled up in a blue cloth in the runner's arms, non-moving. Inside this cloth was a book, one if which he had found lying on the sidewalk on his way home.

Despite other people passing it, nobody took their eyes from the devices in their hands, all bustling to and from places.

A person had snarled at them when they had stopped and bent down to pick up the book, a black leather-bound book with golden, lettering written in calligraphy, and yellowing pages. The first five pages had no text in it, making the person wonder if it was completely empty, a journal of some type, though on the sixth page it exploded into chicken-scratch, in German, that could barely be deciphered.

The person managed to read the title of the page, glad he had taken German in school, it read, Schlafende Flüche, the first line reading, Zwölf Stunden Schlaf. The people around them stopped moving, the street lights stopped working, and cars drifted aimlessly to a controlled stop, at least for a small moment. After that moment, everything robotically started moving again, the people moving like roots, all in perfect sync. As if in a trance.

The person tripped, the book flying out of their hands as they instinctively released it to catch themselves. The hood of their sweatshirt fell, revealing a man in his early 20's with dark brown, almost black, hair, which-like his pants-was covered in paint. The dark brown eyes could be seen now that his hood had stopped covering his face. A crooked nose was scrunched up as his lips were set into a thin line from the surprise of the fall.

His mouth formed the shape of curse words, yet no sound came out. He stood up again, picked up the book off of the ground, the cloth completely soaked, and kept to a slow jog.

As the adrenaline wore off from the run, he could now feel the burning of his legs and lungs, making him contemplate if he should sit down for a minute. He silently cursed himself for living a two hour walk from his school, and for not owning a car. He really should've taken the offer for living on campus. And then he cursed himself for that. He couldn't have taken the offer anyway, and if he did he would have never found the book. But maybe that would be good?

Finally breathing out a sigh just minutes later, he reached the road of which his house was on. Baker Street Street. Some fangirl had adopted the street and named it after the street Sherlock Holmes lived on, just two years ago when it was still Clareken Street. He had lived in flat 22 before the name change. Though halfway through that year, he started renting a two bedroom flat, his girlfriend-Sophia-moved in with him.

Her face flashed in his mind, a pained grimace appearing on his face. It hurt to remember her, even now. Just nine months ago, she had died giving birth to their first, and only, daughter. Even though it happened almost a year ago, it still hurt to think about.

His pace sped up as he thought of the eerie silence, wondering if his, already quiet, daughter and flamboyant, cheerful babysitter had become just as quiet as the neighborhood, as robotic as everybody else. If they had frozen up in that single moment.

The man ran upstairs, ignoring the red "LATE" notice taped to his door, and froze right as his hand touched the knob.

What if the two had frozen? What if it doesn't stop? What caused this? The book, safely tucked under his left arm, warmed slightly, as if it was right by a fire. And yet, the motion of the book sent a thought running across his mind.

Was it him who caused it? It would make sense, it was right after he said those words. But just words cannot cause something like this.

How can he reverse it?

A crash to his right alerted him, and made the man jump. There, he noticed a tabby cat, sitting stiffly though its tail was swishing. There were square markings around its eyes, forming a shape that resembled glasses. It seemed to be staring through him and at the book, making him shiver.

That cat is creepy.

He shook his head before entering his flat, bracing himself for whatever may be waiting for him.

And he was relieved to find Evan-the babysitter-sleeping on the couch in a sitting position, his hand on the crib railing, and the telly set on low, some cartoon with minor violence playing.

Evan was a neighbour, age 24, and going to a university nearby the flats, but typically only had classes on the weekends. He had layered, blond hair that faded into a light brown, and bushy eyebrows-that he claimed he didn't care if were plucked or not-and on top of that, he was wearing a black shirt and skinny jeans. All in all, the man thing that got the man to give a job to this older man to keep his daughter safe, besides him being trustworthy, was that he was gay.

The man walked up to Evan, softly shaking him awake.

Evan's eyes snapped open, revealing an unusual golden colour, and his left hand going to his boot. His right hand grabbed the man's forearm, and squeezed before relaxing once he saw who it was.

"Oh, hey, Adam," Evan said, slowly pulling his hand away and rubbed the back of his neck. "Heh, sorry about that. I must've," he yawned, immediately covering his mouth, "f-fallen asleep. At least Katherine's asleep as well." He stood up and smiled at his mute friend.

Adam quickly picked up the paper and pencil he left on the table, simultaneously setting the book he was carrying down, still in the cloth, and quickly wrote his response down. "Yeah. Sorry, I was taking a walk around the block and sorta got distracted."

Evan took a minute to read it before smiling. "Hey, it's completely fine. You know how I love watching Katherine! Anyway, I best be going. Might as well try to gain some more sleep before tomorrow, yeah? Goodnight Sunshine." Evan waved, addressing Adam by his nickname, and left the flat, closing the door behind him.

Adam walked over to the door and locked it, before going to the couch that Evan was just sleeping on, a gentle smile on his face.

He would be lying that after this year, he had not developed a slight attraction to Evan. He was nice to look at and he was always cheerful. And he was there for every second that he had felt alone when Sophia passed. Evan was a shoulder to cry on, and helped take care of Katherine. Adam himself knew nothing about parenting, but Evan, having three younger siblings-two girls and a boy-helped Adam.

He peered at his daughter from over the bars of the crib and smiled. She had auburn hair, just slightly curled, that was already fading to brown, just like Sophia's did. She had a crooked nose just like himself, and a black eye from trying to walk and falling into the chair legs. She was determined, though, to walk.

Actually, amazingly she had been advanced for a child, crawling at six months, and just last month taking her first steps. Now, she has been holding onto anything stable to help her navigate, and is determined to walk without support.

Adam was proud of her, though almost alarmed at how fast she was growing and how much he had already missed. Evan was the one there for her first step. He was the one to teach her words, and still is, the first one to hear her first word.

Her first word was Evan's name, not daddy. Not mommy. It was the name of his best friend. His-now-crush.

He glanced at his daughter again, before curling into a ball where Evan was before and set his hand on the crib, rocking it back and forth, tears at the edge of his eyes.

That night, he fell asleep crying, not knowing what was going to happen, and forgetting about the book that lay on the coffee table in front of him.

As Evan walked out of Adam's flat, he looked around-though he knew no one was around-and reached into his boot and pulled an object out. It was a thin stick, whittled and rolled into smooth wood.

Evan waved his wand, relaxing instantly and feeling rejuvenated. It was a charm he had made in his third year to help with his insomnia. He used it almost every night until the nurse caught him and scolded him. That was a terrifying moment.

Almost two hours ago, he felt a burst of magic that had made him tense. Not only that, but it had made a crying Katherine fall asleep immediately, and his typical caffeinated self to feel drowsy.

He had recognized the feel of magic almost instantly, and had figured out-because of how light the spell was-it was cast throughout the entire city. All muggles would be in a death-like sleep, the only conscious creatures being animals and wizards.

He looked back at the Opal's door, wondering how Adam could be awake. Evan knew for certain he want a wizard, he would've felt his aura as soon as they got close, and there would've been some sort of magical item around the house. And he most definitely wasn't a magical creature, again, there would have been some sort of sign.

The only person who would've stayed awake could be the one to cast the spell, but even if Adam knew about magic, how could he know all of the characteristics? He had even stated that his school life was hell up until this point, that couldn't possibly describe a wizarding school.

Evan stood, staring at the door and pondering. If anyone did see him, they would see him staring blankly at a door, reconsidering his friend choices.

"Mr. Smith," a voice from behind him spoke, making him jump. He turned around quickly, pointing his wand out in front of him. There, was an older woman looking at him. "Mr. Smith, I sincerely hope you weren't about to hex me instead of helping me with this problem we have. Hopefully you won't be staring at the door the entire time either."

Evan quickly got over his surprise and lowered his wand, smiling. "Minerva, it is nice to see again! How is my favourite professor doing? And no, I don't plan on hexing you or staring at their door, I was just thinking."

Minerva was a strict looking person, her black hair pulled into a tight bun and green eyes framed by square glasses with a tight lipped look. She wore a green cloak with the hood down.

Minerva raised an eyebrow, "If you must know, Mr. Smith, I am doing well, except that all of London has fallen into a death-like state."

Evan shook his head, flipping his hair out of his eyes as he did so, "Yeah, I know. I'm just wondering who started it and how it can be reversed."

"Your friend there seemed to have a good idea, Mr. Smith. He was the carrying the book that had the spell," McGonagall stated, glancing at the door.

Evan's eyes widen, and he seemed at a loss of words. "A-Adam? Him being able to do magic? He's as likely to do any sort of spell as Filch. He doesn't even believe magic exists! How would he even get ahold of that book? It makes no sense!" His voice got slightly louder as he started pacing the floor, something he did when he got nervous.

"Mr. Smith! I need you to get that book from your friend! A muggle is not permitted to have such items!" Her voice never raised, but it was clear that she was doing her best to stay patient with her past student.

Evan wiped a hand down his face, weighing his options. "Fine, I'll do this. And what if there is no counter for it? Do we just wait? Plus, Professor McGonagall, you owe me now."

He turned to the door, not waiting for a reply, and flicked his wand, the door unlocking without any noise.

He waited a minute, slipping his wand into his boot, and walked through the door, cringing when it creaked. He held his breath before pushing it open the whole way.

There, curled up in the spot he was just dozing off in, was Adam, both arms tucked into his body like a child. Evan's have swelled at the thought of him being a child, and smiled, before his face fell again.

He recounted the actions Adam took when he came in just an hour ago. Even though Evan was asleep, he knew Adam's routine by heart, always doing the same actions when he came back late.

Adam typically came in, left the door open to air out the flat, set whatever he had been carrying on the table, and sent Evan home, meaning the only place could be the table.

Evan walked closer to the low-lying table in front of the couch, looking for any book that looked remotely suspicious. But, no, the only books in the vicinity of the table were textbooks and also baby books. Papers and late notices, also multiple pens and pencils.

Adam twisted, curling up more into a ball, before sighing. Whatever he was dreaming about certainly wasn't pleasant. Though, Evan stopped worrying about his friend when he noticed Katherine was awake and owlishly staring at him. Her blue-gray eyes seemed to stare directly into his soul and further as she kept glancing at something behind him.

Evan glanced behind him, making sure there was nobody or no thing there, before starting a staring contest with the toddler. Chances are, she wouldn't remember a thing, she was too young to retain memories.

Katherine was the one to break the mini staring contest, as she fell back down inside the crib. She clapped several times before messing with something inside of the crib, the sound of crinkling paper filling the air.

Curious, because Adam would not give her real books yet, he stepped forward, close enough to see the black leather book's pages being turned and crumpled by small fingers.

Eye's widening at the sight, Evan grabbed the book from the young girl, and quickly shushed her whimpers. She wasn't happy that he had taken away something new to be groped and prodded.

Though he was sure Adam was soundly asleep and under the same spell as the rest of the muggles, he cast a silencing charm on the infant, before leafing through the pages.

The first five pages were blank, but the rest was scrawled writing in messy handwriting, and in a foreign language-which Evan assumed was German.

He looked at a confused Katherine, whom he smiled at causing her to do the same. He set the book back on the table and quietly left, forgetting to take the charm off of Katherine.

From outside, Evan locked the door and turned around back to McGonagall who was patiently waiting. She looked expectantly at him, her look saying everything. 'Well?'

"The spell wears off naturally in twelve hours, meaning we only have to wait seven and eight and a half more," Evan explained, and scratched his arm lightly. He had a sneaking suspicion that he was forgetting something.

McGonagall raised an eyebrow, "And the book? Where is it?"

Evan nodded back to the door, the notice still taped on it. He'll have to help out Adam again with his bills. "I left it with them," he said, before rushing out an explanation before Mcgonagall asked why. "I'm pretty sure his daughter, Katherine, is a witch anyway. Might as well have a head start."

He could see that McGonagall was angry with his decision, though there was no major outward change, her eyes hardened. "Mr. Smith. I don't think you realize how much that book is of importance and should not be kept watch over by a muggle and his infant daughter." Her voice was steady, making Evan flinch and bring his hands forward in a "peace" gesture. He was never good when anyone was disappointed in him.

"I-I understand its importance, Professor." He mentally cringed at his stutter and the use of the word "Professor". He was no longer her student and-if he wanted to-could not call her Professor. "I just don't feel comfortable with stealing from one of my friends, and if anybody tries, they'll have to deal with me. I'll look after both my friend and the book, if that makes you feel any better. I won't let them see magic either, I swear." Evan stopped talking and took a deep breath.

McGonagall was taken aback-though did not outwardly show it-and smiled at her ex-student. "I'm glad to know you still have your wit and Hufflepuff loyalty. Fine, they may keep the book nobody-except us two-have been able to trace the power anyway. It's too foreign to do so, just make sure something like this doesn't happen again, okay?" From there, she disappeared with a distinct "pop" as Evan breathed out a sigh of relief.

Oh what his friend gotten into?

(3149)

Fun Fact #1:

This was originally going to be called "Modern!", mainly because I got attached to the name. The story on Google Docs and paper is still called Modern!