Hermione was sitting on her bed when it happened. It was warm and stuffy, so she had opened her window. While she was turning back time to the morning, the shutter banged in a sudden blast of wind. She jumped, flicking the time-turner harder than was good, dropping it, it shot across the bed. The wind caught the hourglass, spinning it faster and faster. She fumbled for, but it was too late. Time was going backwards, the comfy antiques getting newer and newer, then disappearing, the walls fading out, turning into long dormitories. The beds turned into bunks, the bathroom turned into a washroom. The time-turner finally slowed down, the years slowing into days, figures of boys walking in and out then stopped in the dark.

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"Gaheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!" Specs awoke to Romeo's yell.

"Nightmare Rome?" He called sleepily down to the boy below him.

"NO! DERE'S A GOIL IN MY BED!" Romeo screamed.

"Romeo, shut ya trap about ya stupid dreams an' go ta sleep!" Race said from his bunk. Several other boys murmured their agreements.

"Sorry! I just...it was an...I...sorry!" Most of the boys woke up more at the unfamiliar, feminine, and British voice.

"Uh...who is ya an' what is ya doin' in Romeo's bed?" Race spoke up. Jack burst through the unlocked window from the roof.

"Who yelled? Is someone hurt?"

"Nah, Jack. Romeo jist woke up with a strange person on his bed. A goil. An' she's from London. No big deal, right? Wrong! HOW THE HECK DID SHE GIT IN HERE! SHE'S A WEIRDO!" Albert was always stressed when someone woke him up, for any reason.

"A...wait, what?"

"I was jist sleepin' an' den suddenly dis goil was jist here on top of me an' she jist appeared an' so I yelled an' dey woke up an' she's not my goil, really she ain't!" Romeo burst out. Somebody finally realized they were having this conversation in the dark and lit a candle. The room brightened, and everybody could see the girl with bushy brown hair standing at the foot of Romeo's bed.

" So...uh...goil. How'd ya git in here?" Jack asked, looking slightly worried by the thought that some random girl could just walk in with nobody noticing.

"I've been on the run for a few months, at least, and this place seemed warm, and there was food in the kitchen, so I figured I would disguise myself as a boy and sneak in and hope nobody would notice. I thought this bed was empty, but apparently not." Jack nodded, seeming to believe this story. Many of the newsies had been runaways before they arrived at the lodging house.

"How long ya been on da run? An' why is ya, who is clearly from London, in da grand ole' US of A?"

"My parents and I came here on a trip, and I ran away. I don't know how long it's been, only that I ran in the summer and survived the winter." Inwardly, Hermione cringed. The boys looked sympathetic to her lie, and the lie was getting more and more complex. How could she keep this up?

"Well, it's March now, so you'se been on da run for at least half a year, probably more. You'se ran away da summer of 1898, right, not some other year an' you'se been on da streets a long time?" Jack asked. Hermione just nodded.

"Well den, guess we'se gotta do our duty an' take care of ya, but you'se gotta work for rent. A penny a day, seven a week, ya know, simple ar-eeth-ma-tick. You'se is gonna hafta sell papes with us."

"Aww, Jack! A goil? Sellin'? Dat ain't no fun! She's gonna be like a muddah, an' make us wash, an' clean, an' not drink, an'-"

"Tommy-boy, dat's enough. She needs our help." several boys grumbled, but some seemed nice enough. Romeo was calling out excitedly.

"I found her! An' she gits ta stay! An' I found her! An' she's stayin'! An' I found-"

"Romeo, shut ya trap. It's a goil. An' it's night. An' I want ta sleep. So can we'se deal with dis in da mornin'? Or if not, can you'se take her somewheres else so I'se can sleep?" Race complained. Jack ran a hand through his already tussled hair.

"Fine. Goil...uh, ya got a name?"

"Hermione."

"Uh...nah. You'se need a newsie name, since dat one's so bad."

"Did you just insult my name?"

"Yes."

"Git used ta his pokin' fun. It's what he does best." This came from a boy that had just swung through the window. He was holding a stick...no, a crutch. The boy smiled encouragingly. Jack sent a mock glare in the direction of the boy.

"Shut it, Crutchie." The boy just laughed. Jack shook his head. "Well, we'se will decide a name for ya later. For now, git ta sleep so Race don't murder us all...dere's an open bed over dere." Jack pointed to the top of a bunk near the end of the long room. Hermione nodded and headed over there. Looks like I'm stuck here for now. I can't just disappear, they'll all freak out. And I can't tell them I'm a witch. So I'm stuck in...1899. March. Wait...1899! The strike! I can live history! Hermione was not thinking rationally as she slipped into the bunk, drifting off to sleep as the candle was blown out. I really shouldn't feel this safe...I mean, I'm stuck in 1899 with a bunch of boys who I don't know, and yet I feel...safe. Peculiar.

Not the best explanation for the whole time turner thing...but I guess it worked. Review for more chapters.