Harry Potter in Time but He's a Stoner

He's on Time?! Oh, nvm.

Harry woke up the morning of his leaving and felt a new sense of power over him. It was nothing like he had ever felt before and Harry was always surrounded with overwhelming emotions that he would see as his parents ghosts - literally. This new power made him feel like he could do anything that he wanted to so in the spur of a moment he creased his forehead that made him look just a little constipated and managed to summon a textbook he'd left on his desk to him without saying anything or a wand. It came at him with such a speed and hit him on the chest so he was winded. "That needs perfecting," he coughed out and stood from his bed. 

He packed all of his things away and left the room as clean as it was when he came in - so not very - and scooped Katya back onto his shoulders with a slight hiss from her being woken up and left the room. He handed back his key and then walked out into the streets of Diagon Alley once more. 

"SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT" Harry muttered as he pushed past people with his backpack and a bottomless briefcase he had acquired from his weekendly endeavours, and rushed towards the notorious wall that stood non-suspiciously at King's Cross Station. The foul language that he was and still is using had sprung from the fact that he was a fucking idiot and read his train ticket wrong and now the train to his one and only hope of returning back to his time was leaving in a mere 5 minutes.

He most definately looked like a maniac while sprinting towards a wall and no doubt caught the eye of many onlookers - or should he say muggles - which reminded him he should act natural or as natural as you can while walking through a wall. "This is it," he mummered and passed through the entrance to Platform 9 3/4 and hurried to the train as the warning whistle sirened.

He managed to make it barely onto the train and he took a moment to wonder how safe it actually was - after all he was a stranger that had just walked onto a train that leads out of the country into one of the most famous wizarding schools to exist without needing any form of ID. Despite this intrusive thought that will certainly make him overthink everyone that enters the train when he gets back home, he walked to a cabin that was surprisingly empty at the back of the train and took a seat. He wrapped a blanket he had packed around himself (don't judge, Harry needs his comforts) and picked up a potions book he had not finished reading. He sat against the window and briefly watched as the world passed by until he turned back to his book once more. 

He guessed he must've fell asleep because he woke up with his face in some pages and to the sound of some not quiet whispers around him. He jumped up in shock and pushed himself back into the corner of the cabin while his eyes adjusted. When they weren't adjusting he took his own initiative and pulled his glasses up from his lap where they had fallen off and, like a moron, dropped them before finally managing to put them on his face. 

He could finally see now that he was actually wearing his prescription and looked around the carraige to see 4 people that looked his own age. There was a boy hunched over whose face Harry could only briefly see over the pages of a book he seemed to be emerged in, a slightly chubby brunette that was smirking at the scene, a curly brunette with glasses sniggering to himself and a boy with long black hair who was slowly advancing towards Harry with a sharpie. "What. The. Fuck."