Harry Potter in Time but He's a Stoner

The one time he needs his family.

Harry's vision went black and he took a few seconds to register where he was. He was still on the street infront of the Dursley's but there was no music, no laughing or talking, none of it. Just the sounds of birds chirping the morning song. Last time Harry checked it was 8 PM and he was ready to have the highest night of his life - looks like that's not happening anymore. He was still on the ground, looking as battered and bruised as ever so he slowly lifted himself off of the pavement, wiping the little stones off of his palms as he did. 

He felt the weight of his backpack on his back and ultimately decided not to check if everything was okay in broad daylight. Weighing out the pros and cons, he decided he should go knock on the Dursley's door, maybe Dudley would be semi-okay with him never showing up to the party with "his" drugs. He highlights the "his" as Harry paid, but him and Dudley were a package deal apparently. He makes his way up the drive, not recognising the flowers. That's odd. He vaguely remebers Petunia planting the flowers last weekend so they shouldn't be fully sprouted, but what was odder was Harry recognised these as chysanthenums, nothing like what Petunia's taste of lillies, peony's and rose's were.

He checked the house number three times before he knocked, finding a sense of fear overwhelm him - oh well. He shrugged it off. It didn't go for long and soon found its way back when someone Harry definatly didn't recognise answered the door to his house.

"Goodmorning young man what can I help you with?" The man looked about 50 years old and held a warm smile, smoke puffing from his mouth after he took a small breath of his pipe that he held in his other hand.

Harry looked confused for a number of reasons. One being that he had never seen this man before and he was sure that he was at the right house - I mean he'd lived there his entire life basically. Another being that no one used a pipe anymore but now he was intirigued to try but he had to cut that thought off as he was still technically underage - 16's not bad in his opinion though. Back to the point Harry.

"Um Hi Sir, is Vernon Dursley here?" He thought asking for his uncle would be a better option, he was more well known and likely to be liked by the older generation for his old-fashioned (*cough* rascist *cough* homophobic *cough*) ideals.

"I'm sorry son, I haven't a clue about who you're talking about." Now Harry was confused.

"Are you sure, Sir? I'm sure this is the address I was given. 4 Privet Drive?" Harry tried to play it off as a visitor, he could tell in this man's expression that he was telling the truth, and he looked on the verge of a heart attack just by the sheer amount of wrinkles that cracked his face, so Harry didn't want to be much of a bother. 

"I'm sure, are you lost? I could try to point you in the right direction if you have an address, but I'm afraid my sight is one with my age, and I haven't a clue where my glasses are." 

"It's fine. Thank you anyway, have a nice day." Harry started walking away from the door after the man had tipped his hat to him wishing him well and had walked out a gate, just to get knocked on his side by a man on a bike.

Harry says a man but he was more of a teenager, younger than Harry by the looks of it, and he was carrying a basket of newspapers on the front of his bike. He was carrying them until he fell off after bumping into Harry, allowing the papers to go flying everywhere and the boy to fall to his side. 

"Sorry about that Sir." The boy apologised. 

"No worries are you okay?" Harry asked concerned for the boy, bending down to help pick up the papers that had fallen out from the basket. 

"Yes, thank you for the help," 

"It's my pleasure,"

Harry looked at the paper for a split second, but stared once he realised the date. The year was wrong. 

"Excuse me, the year on these papers are wrong." Harry showed the boy and the boy looked shocked. 

"No they're not," the boy laughed a little, "that's right, April 16th 1976." He got back on his bike and wished Harry a good day, after all, the paper-round charges by the hour, leaving Harry stood there in confusion.

1976? Harry was sure it was 1996. It was. Harry realised. The timeturner! It all finally made sense. He'd travelled 20 years back in time. He may have faced voldemort more than once. But this is the only time Harry felt compelled to faint from shock.