Marauders - Always - Part One

Summer 2015: but wait its also Summer 1993 and where the hell are we Declan?

I've heard it described like being pulled from your navel a bunch of times, but I wasn't prepared for the sensation I got when, dizzy, I found myself standing in a random yard and before I could even adapt to that, I heard Declan say, "Hold onto me!" and he wrapped his full body around me and there was a jerk like being caught on a fish hook.

I felt spun about in a dark place. This is what clothing feels like in the washing machine. Vertigo incomparable to anything I've ever felt before threw me and I clung onto Declan like my life depended on it and I was sure it probably did. I was squeezed, stretched, spun and a myriad of other uncomfy sensations and suddenly felt hard ground under my feet and Declan's grip loosened on me.

I spun 'round like a tourist at Six Flags and threw up.

"Oh c'mon, not on my shoes!" Declan said.

I clutched my knees, unbalanced, staring at the sick, staring at the grass, my stomach still whirling about. I was sooo getting a migraine later...

"Tergio," Declan said, and I noticed he had a wand poking out of his shirt sleeve. The sick was gone, sneakers clean as new, and he sighed, reaching down and patting my back. "Sorry, I forgot you said this happened. I should have warned you."

I looked up at him with a long-suffering expression.

Declan offerer a sheepish grin.

It took a minute for me to gather myself together, for the spinning to stop, and I stood upright, now disoriented for another reason.

We were most definitely not in Nashville anymore.

I stared around as my brain tried to wrap around what happened, what logical thing he might have done.

"Where the hell are we, Declan?" I asked.

He let me look around for a moment without answering, then he pointed up.

I looked.

We were on a street corner in a residential area, but it was definitely not anywhere in East Nashville - the shape of the houses were all different than I was used to in an unexplainable way - just different. And it was all perfectly manicured, grass cut just so across all the lawns that patchworked down the road, the houses all perfect and alike aside from variations in color. Like a row of perfect teeth.

Above us hovered a street sign, lit by illuminated lamps that reminded me of Narnia, marking the intersection of PRIVET DRIVE and MAGNOLIA COURT.

I stared up at it wordlessly, then turned and looked for numbers on the houses. A brown brick one two down from where we stood sat quiet and still, and I could barely breathe. I looked at Declan.

Declan checked a watch on his wrist - old and leather, the band was very worn - and he said, "Let's see... We've actually hit the timing rather perfectly. Look at that!" He held up his arm for me. His watch was scratched on the face, very old. "... and if I'm not mistaken... I mean, if I remember correctly..." Declan led the way across the lawn of Number Two and we stopped on the sidewalk between the two houses. "Don't stare," he whispered, "But if you glance at the bushes - about halfway up the car park... Just wait and the street light will catch his eyes when he moves."

I glanced, whirled back around to face Declan, gasping. "Is that --"

"Yes, it is."

I was shaking. "This cannot be real."

"Ah, but it is. And you'll get used to it eventually. We've done a lot of seeing."

"You keep talking past tense," I pointed out.

Declan smiled sadly, "Well, a lot of what we do I've already done. If that makes sense."

"Not really."