Harry and the Chocolate Factory by DukeBrymin
Summary: Harry finds a Golden Ticket, which leads to more wonders than he could have imagined.
Rating: PG
Categories: Alternate Universe
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2009.03.22
Updated: 2009.03.27
Index
Chapter 1: Chapter 1, The Announcement
Chapter 2: Chapter 2, The Candy Store
Chapter 3: Chapter 3, The Red-Heads
Chapter 4: Chapter 4, The Fateful Day
Chapter 5: Chapter 5, Explanations
Chapter 1: Chapter 1, The Announcement
Author's Notes: You might have read this already, as it’s the third chapter in 100 Ways Harry DIDN’T Find Out He Was a Wizard, which is posted on fanfiction. Well, my betas, sassyfrass/sandyrah and rosiekatriona, refused to let me just let this story end where it did. So, I’m breaking it out into chapters, and will continue work on it. I’m not sure how long it will end up being, but it should be a fun ride. Note that I’ve made a few changes in this version compared to the one in 100 Ways—rewriting small portions. Any major typos I find as I do this will be propagated back, at least, so that 100 Ways will be as mistake-proof as possible.
Enjoy!
The whole neighborhood of Little Whinging was in an uproar. This might have been cause for alarm, except for the fact that its uproar was somewhat lost in the uproar that engulfed Surrey itself. But then, that wasn't a surprise, because the entirety of England was caught up in the same hysterical excitement, and not just England either. Excited childish cries could be heard from a very large white house in Washington, District of Columbia, United States of America. In the President's palace in Namibia were to be heard exclamations of joy and happiness for the same reasons. In small huts in the upper Amazon, where the only modern convenience was a radio, children danced around their parents singing about chocolate. In a ramshackle house outside of a little village in Devon, a family full of redheads, mostly boys, but also including one small girl, formed a conga line and danced through the kitchen laughing and joking about the wonderful news. In short, the celebration seemed to be common throughout the whole world.
It is, perhaps, incorrect to say that the whole world was in the same tizzy. There were some people in deepest Africa who didn't have a television, hadn't read the newspaper, and weren't prone to visiting larger towns to get the latest gossip. There were a few people living in a religious commune in the Yucatan peninsula who had sworn off any contact with the outside world, and had happened to be in a self-imposed indoors isolation retreat when the skywriting was visible in that region. And of course, there was a certain young boy, who lived in a cupboard, who had been trained from infancy that nothing good would ever happen to him, and who didn't see the need to get himself into a frenzy over something that wouldn't ever affect him.
-----
“Mother!”
The strident tones of Dudley Dursley’s bellow echoed throughout #4 Privet Drive. In his cupboard, Harry took note. In his years with the Dursleys, Harry had learned how to recognize certain situations, based on the tenor of the voice. He recognized the “Harry’s done something wrong come punish him!” tone. He, of course, knew very well the “Let’s go beat up Harry!” cadences, which were usually said in a leering chuckle to Dudley’s so-called friends. And then there was the “I’ve got my parents wrapped around my finger” whine, which was employed whenever Dudley wanted to ask for something that he knew he probably shouldn’t have, but lusted for anyway.
This most recent yell held a note that Harry wasn’t accustomed to hearing. It was more of a genuine surprise and excitement than anything else, and Harry immediately pressed himself up against the grate in the cupboard door to hear what was going on. He didn’t do this in the hope of something good happening to him. He supposed that it was possible, but didn’t have a lot of experience with that type of occurrence. No, he just had a forlorn hope that whatever was causing Dudley’s current excitement would be something interesting to hear about.
The sound of Aunt Petunia’s hurried footsteps came from overhead, followed by the rapid patter of her feet on the stairs, with accompanying dustfalls and spider scurryings, as Dudley’s doting mother raced to the side of her poor boy.
“What is it, Duddy-kins? What’s the matter?”
Harry was happy not to see this part of the conversation, knowing that his aunt’s face would be showing the anxiety that she always felt whenever anything out of the ordinary happened, and it would be an unwelcome reminder of how often he had been the cause of these extraordinary happenings.
“Mother, the telly just announced the most amazing thing!!! You know that Wonky fellow, that makes all the great chocolates and sweets?”
“Wonka, dear, his name is Willy Wonka,” Petunia gently corrected him.
“That’s what I said! Anyway, it said that he was going to allow some kids to come visit his chocolate factory! He’s putting these golden thingies into the candy and you have to eat the candy and find the gold and if you do then you get to visit!!” Dudley was hardly able to get the words out in the proper order, he was so excited.
Harry was grateful, once again, to not be there to have to see the disgusting spectacle of his cousin slobbering and spitting pieces of food all over the place–after all, Dudley usually ate while he was watching TV, and had never yet felt the need to stop eating while talking.
“Duddy, what are you talking about? Mr. Wonka hasn’t let anyone into his factory in just about forever, ever since that one boy, Bucket, I think was his name, disappeared inside and never came out. I’m sure he wouldn’t try this silly golden ticket thing again!” Petunia had not even been born yet when the Bucket Scandal had taken over the consciousness of the world. All she could recall was hearing her parents talk about a group of children visiting the factory and having all sorts of problems, then one child never being seen again.
“But Ma, I heard it–they said that this was starting to happen right now!! Ma, I want to go buy some Wonka candy! Please take me! I want to find a Golden Ticket! I want to go to the chocolate place! Take me now!!!”
Dudley’s pleas almost went unheeded–Petunia certainly didn’t want to be party to any sort of irregular occurrence. But at that moment, the television broadcast repeated what Dudley must have heard earlier. At that proof that Dudley wasn’t making it up, Petunia’s maternal instincts (well, she labeled them “maternal” even though in other women they would have been labeled “coddling”, and other less-than-flattering words) awoke, and she gave in to Dudley’s demands.
“Okay Duddy-kins, let me get my handbag, and we’ll walk down to the candy store and get you some chocolate. After all, you didn’t eat very much for breakfast–“. At this, Harry snorted. He had, as always, cooked breakfast that morning, and couldn’t help but notice that, while true that Dudley hadn’t eaten as much as normal, he had still gone through three plates of eggs, 7 slices of toast with marmalade, and a whole side of bacon.
-----------
Later that day, after Harry had finished his afternoon chores, he went for a walk. While this was not, strictly, allowed, he knew that since Uncle Vernon wasn’t home yet, his aunt wouldn’t make a fuss about him being gone for awhile.
As the young 10-year old was wandering through Laurel Place, he noticed a piece of paper fluttering in the gutter. He usually scanned the surroundings as he walked. It, of course, was a necessity, having grown up with "Harry Hunting" being the national sport, or at least the neighborhood pastime. But, self-preservational habits aside, he found it occasionally very interesting, as there was no telling what kinds of objects would wind up in the gutter, or trapped under bushes, or hidden behind trash bins. This time it proved to be a five-pound note. He had never seen one before, at least up close, but it said so, right on the front. It looked to be a rather new one, not dirty, or ragged, or wet, or faded, or anything else that would have explained it being left where it was. It looked as if someone had just decided to put a new, clean banknote in the one place that Harry would be sure to find it, and even more, that this strange thing had happened just moments before.
Slightly nervous at the thought that this might be a prank, and glancing all around him to see if he could perhaps find the supposed pranksters, Harry slowly bent down and picked up the money. As he did so, he heard a slight ‘pop’ from the bushes to his side, but his quick glance over there showed nothing.
Harry now found himself at a loss as to what to do. He had never had money before, and wasn’t quite sure what was “allowed”. He supposed that he should probably make some effort to find the previous owner of the money, but didn’t quite know how to go about it. The brief thought of asking Aunt Petunia for help crossed his mind, only to leave as soon as it entered. He had no doubts that she would confiscate the banknote, box his ears for having “stolen Vernon’s hard-earned money”, and thrown him into his closet with more force than usual. This would, of course, not lead, by any stretch of the imagination, to his being able to return the money.
After further thought, Harry decided that he’d look for the candy store that Dudley had previously visited. He hoped that maybe the candy store owner would be sympathetic to his plight, since Harry had never been there before and might not have been told about Harry’s supposed “delinquent” status, and would at least be able to tell him if there were other stores nearby. He hoped that it would still be open, although with the amount of chocolate that Dudley had brought home, and subsequently consumed, it was possible that it had closed, due to having no more merchandise.
Harry looked around, trying to find the aforementioned store. Not seeing any sign or indication that there was a candy store in the immediate vicinity, he finally stopped a nice-looking older man to ask for some guidance. He was somewhat worried about bothering a normal person with his "freakish" presence, but reasoned that the old man in question probably wouldn’t be able to hit him before he could escape, so he probably wouldn’t get into trouble. He had never seen this old man before, so it was unlikely that Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon knew him, although, to be truthful, it was more this old man’s eccentric appearance that led him to that conclusion than any knowledge of his relatives’ circle of acquaintances.
“Excuse me, sir, could you please point me to the nearest candy store?” Harry had, of course, been taught to be very respectful when approaching one’s betters, and it had been drilled into his head that just about everyone he was likely to meet was his better, although on the subject of tramps and hobos he still wasn’t one-hundred percent clear.
“Hello there, young Harry,” the old man said. “Why would you need to go to the candy store?”
Harry was astounded. This old man knew his name! Was Harry wrong? Did his relatives already know this man? Had they told him the normal story, that Harry was a criminal? His shock came very close to freezing him in his tracks, although there was some part of him that readied his body for an accelerated escape should one become necessary.
After a moment, when it looked as if he weren’t going to be accosted, he realized that, no matter how his name was already known, he needed to answer the question posed–another of the lessons that he had been forced to learn at quite a young age was to always answer when adults were talking.
“Yes sir. I found this money–“ and here Harry showed the banknote to the old man, hoping against hope that his reaction wouldn’t be the same as his aunt’s would have been, or worse, his uncle’s.
The old man interrupted, “–and you wanted to go buy candy with it, I understand.”
“No sir,” Harry responded immediately. “I was going to ask the owner if he’d lost it, or knew someone who had. I know it’s not mine, and wanted to return it to its owner.”
The old man seemed to be unable to formulate a response to this completely unexpected statement of Harry’s. He stood there, staring at the young boy, with his mouth open in amazement. The silence grew to be somewhat off-putting, until he finally shook himself, closed his mouth, then opened it again.
“Harry, that sounds like a great idea! It’s wonderful that you would take the time to try to return someone’s missing money to them. Tell you what, I’d like to walk with you to the candy store, if I may?”
Harry was a little taken aback by this strange man’s request. He didn’t think he knew this man, although it seemed apparent that the reverse wasn’t quite true, and knew that he wasn’t worth someone’s time to escort him to a store when they could just as easily tell him the directions. But he hadn’t been hit in the entire time they had been talking, and he was starting to think that maybe this person might be someone he’d like to get to know.
“Well sir, I’m sure you don’t have to. I’ll be fine with directions, and I certainly wouldn’t want to take up your valuable time. And I’ve been told not to go off with strangers, and while you seem to know who I am, I don’t think my aunt and uncle would be happy if I left with you.”
The old man seemed somewhat saddened by Harry’s not recognizing him. But then a sneaky smile crept onto his face. “Well Harry, you and I have met before, although it was a long time ago, and it’s not surprising that you wouldn’t remember me. But as for who I am, you can just call me Charlie. I have to agree that your aunt and uncle wouldn’t necessarily approve of me, but I promise that I won’t do anything to hurt you.”
Harry thought about the man’s words for a bit. He thought about his limited interactions with him, taking note especially of the fact that he hadn’t once felt threatened by the man, in either actions or words. The fact that his relatives wouldn’t approve of him didn’t put him off especially–there were a very large number of people that Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia didn’t approve of, most notably Harry himself, so that wasn’t exactly a scathing condemnation. Upon reaching this point, he made his decision.
“Okay,” Harry said, “but I need to get home soon after this, because my uncle will be returning from work.”
With this agreement forged, the two men, taller leading shorter, made a sharp right-hand turn down Fescue Boulevard, and headed towards Bon-Bons ‘n’ Things, the local candy store.
Chapter 2: Chapter 2, The Candy Store
Author's Notes: I must thank my betas, rosiekatriona, and sandyrah, without whom this story wouldn't be nearly as polished.
Harry and the Chocolate Factory, Chapter 2, The Candy Store
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe belongs to JKRowling. The Willy Wonka Universe belongs to Roald Dahl.
-----
It was when they arrived at the shop that the old man, Charlie, did something rather strange. He asked Harry to wait outside for a second while he talked to the owner. Harry couldn’t figure out why this was, but didn’t have a strong argument not to, so agreed, albeit reluctantly, since he knew he didn’t have a lot of time that he could safely spend away from his house.
But Harry didn’t have to wait very long until Charlie appeared again, beckoning him inside.
“Harry, I took the liberty of explaining to Mr. Fordham what you told me about the money you found. I know that you were going to do it yourself, but wanted to make sure that he took you seriously, and sometimes these things are easier to understand if an adult explains them.”
Mr. Fordham could be seen, standing behind the counter, nodding his head, although he also had a somewhat surprised look in his eyes, which combined to make him look like something amazingly wonderful had happened, but not to him personally.
Harry felt strangely pleased by Charlie’s actions. Upon hearing Charlie’s explanation, he had immediately felt a rush of anger that someone had dared talk about him behind his back and without his permission. But as Charlie continued explaining, Harry felt his anger turn into happiness. As far as he could remember, no-one had ever taken thought for his well-being and tried to make things easier for him. This was a new and, therefore, somewhat uncomfortable situation, but Harry resolved to try to make the best of it.
“Thank you sir, that was very kind of you,” Harry managed to get out through his surprise.
“Now, now, Harry, I certainly think we’ve gotten past the stage where you need to be calling me sir, don’t you? I would prefer it if you would call me Charlie, if you think you can manage.” All this was said with a twinkle in Charlie’s eyes, as if he really would be happier being referred to in such a familiar manner.
"Oh no, sir, I don't think I could do that. If my uncle or aunt found out, I'd be in trouble." Harry said all this in a rush, hoping that Charlie wouldn't take offense and suddenly realize that he didn't need to spend any more time or energy on someone as freakish as Harry.
But Charlie surprised Harry by going down on one knee, and smiling at him. "Harry, I certainly can understand that. Perhaps in the future, if we have the opportunity to see one another again, you'll feel more comfortable calling me by my name. In the meantime, why don't you talk to Mr. Fordham about that money? I need to be heading on to my home, but before I do, are you going to be able to find your way home from here?"
Harry indicated that he knew where he was--after all, he wasn't too far away from Magnolia Crescent, and from there he knew the way home, being intimately familiar with all the alleyways and paths to get past any lurking bullies and their friends.
------
Mr. Fordham turned out to be a rather genial character, as one usually is when allowed to spend a lifetime helping children be happy. He had run Bon-Bons 'n' Things ever since he had taken it over from his father, and had always enjoyed his work. Legend had been passed down from his father that it was in that very shop that Charlie Bucket had bought the Wonka bar that held his Golden Ticket. But that was a story passed on by whispers and nods, since it wasn't exactly something that needed to be on the front page of the newspaper. The Fordhams always maintained that the Bucket Scandal had been terribly overblown, and that it really wasn't as much a "scandal" as a "mystery". But they were rather in the minority, so they kept somewhat quieter about this possible link than they would have ordinarily.
All this Harry found out in the first two minutes of conversation with the proprietor, for he was a very friendly man, as has been intimated, as well as talkative, and seemed to look upon Harry as his new-found best friend. Harry found himself somewhat breathless in sympathy with the candy man, even though he hadn't really had to do any talking himself. Eventually he was able to interject his question about the money that he had found.
At this point Harry was treated to a couple of minutes of praise for being so honest and upstanding, then another minute or two of discussion (rather one-sided) about how nice and new the banknote was and why someone would have just left it where it had fallen, and then the conversation stopped.
Belatedly, Harry realized that he had been asked a question. Thinking back, he realized that he didn't really have any idea what Mr. Fordham had asked. After a repeat of the question, which involved what Harry planned on doing with the money, which was quite evidently his, since he had found it, he found himself confronted with a conundrum. Having never had access to money before, he wasn't quite sure what he should do. He knew that money was very important--hearing his uncle complain daily about their supposed lack of it had drilled that into his consciousness. He knew, of course, that he himself cost an incredible amount to clothe and feed, although he wasn't exactly sure why that was, since he had never received new clothes of his own, and since Dudley always had an average of six times the amount of food that was given to Harry at the table. But his aunt and uncle had been complaining about Harry since the first day they had him in their home, so he figured they probably knew better than he did himself.
"Perhaps I should buy some food for myself to eat, so Uncle Vernon doesn't have to spend so much on me." Harry hadn't realized he had said this out loud, and was rather puzzled at the brief look of anger on the previously-jovial Mr. Fordham's face. He was slightly scared by that quick transformation, but the look was replaced so quickly by the normal smile that he decided not to worry about it.
At this point, Mr. Fordham decided that he should probably step in, as events didn't seem to be playing out as would have normally been expected. Given a genuine windfall of cash, and close proximity to a candy store, most young boys, and girls too for that matter, would be only too deliriously happy to spend it all in said store. Obviously, though, Harry wasn't most young boys.
"Well young Harry, as I mentioned before, I think it's rather impressive that you wanted to find the owner and give the money back to them. I think you deserve a reward for that." Mr. Fordham was particularly pleased with himself for having come up with an alternate method to carry out his assigned part of the plan. But, he hadn't counted on Harry's native honesty and integrity.
"Oh no, sir, I could never accept a reward for just trying to do what's right. After all, I already have the money, why would I need anything else?" Harry, by this point, was getting genuinely worried about making it back to the house before his uncle, and was starting to think about just bidding the proprietor goodbye, and walking out. Although, having been berated through much of his life for his supposed bad manners, he couldn't quite bring himself to do so.
Mr. Fordham was stumped. He knew that his actions were vital to the whole plot, although he wasn't sure why, and was just about frantic with worry that he'd mess up somehow. In his panic, though, he accidentally brushed too close to the candy counter, and heard a small 'thwack' as something fell to the ground. He bent down to pick up the fallen object, and was lucky he did so, as that was when he had The Idea. The Idea was so simple really; he was surprised he hadn't thought of it before. Rising back up with the fallen item in hand, he put a disgruntled look on his face, and let out a deep sigh.
"Is there something wrong, sir?" asked Harry. He was rather worried that he might have done something to upset the nice candy-store man. He didn't think he had, but long experience had taught him that he wasn't a good judge of what might upset some people.
Mr. Fordham immediately noticed the look of trepidation on Harry's young face, and hastened to reassure him. "No, no! No, nothing's wrong--I just accidentally knocked this candy bar on the floor, and now I won't be able to sell it. I hate having to throw candy away, especially when there's nothing wrong with it except for a bit of dust. But that's what the law says."
Harry, at this point, got a very puzzled look on his face. "Mr. Fordham, please forgive me for asking, but why wouldn't you be able to sell it? A little dirt on food doesn't mean you can't eat it. If I were that picky---" Here Harry realized that he probably shouldn't continue his sentence. While what he had been about to say was strictly true, it most likely fell under the category of "Things Freaks Don't Need to Bother Other People About", which category was surprisingly vast.
That look crossed Mr. Fordham's face again--the one that he had seen before, of barely-suppressed anger. Harry happened to be looking down at his shoes at the time, embarrassed about what he had almost said, but he did catch some mumbled phrases emanating from the candy man.
"If I ever.... ruddy cows... for shame... can't imagine... just a boy..."
Whatever had made Mr. Fordham so angry seemed to be something other than Harry, so he looked up again and asked if there were something he could do to help.
"Well, seeing as how I can't sell this candy bar any more, and you're here and I hate to waste a perfectly good Wonka's Almost-As-Good-As-A-Real Chocolate Frog, why don't you go ahead and take it? It's a rather new invention from Wonka, and they say that they're trying to make a version that really moves like a frog."
Harry wasn't sure what to think about this previously-unexperienced generosity. He thought about it, and compared it with past experiences. There had been times when Dudley had offered him something, only to snatch it away again, or worse, give it to him then tell his father that Harry had stolen it. But he knew that the kindly man wasn't Dudley, and hadn't acted in any way like his oafish cousin. Coming to the conclusion that he could probably run away if necessary, and wouldn't ever have to see the man again if it came to that, he accepted the candy.
Curiously, Mr. Fordham breathed a huge sigh, almost as if he were exceedingly relieved that he'd been able to give the chocolate to Harry. Harry filed this away as just another strange thing that adults do, and put the chocolate in his pocket.
"Aren't you going to open it?" Mr. Fordham was very anxious about the answer to this question. He wasn't exactly sure what would happen when Harry did, but since it played such a vital part in the plan, it must be something special.
"Oh no, sir, I really must be going. Thank you for all you've done, and I'd love to stay and visit some more, but I have to get home before my uncle notices that I'm not there. Good-bye!" And with this, Harry was off, running as hard as he could towards his house.
-----
Thankfully, Harry made it to #4 Privet Drive before Uncle Vernon arrived, and was able to slip into his cupboard unnoticed by Aunt Petunia or Dudley. Once there, he pulled out the Wonka's Almost-As-Good-As-A-Real Chocolate Frog and hid it back in the smallest part of the cupboard, where he kept all the treasures that he didn't want the Dursleys to know about. After ensuring that no-one would be able to see the wrapper even if they were to put their head inside the door, he exited and started working on his chores.
Later that evening, after clearing the table, washing the dishes, mopping the floor, and spending his allotted two minutes in the bathroom, Harry retired to his cupboard, anxious to examine, and perhaps open the wrapper of his Wonka's Almost-As-Good-As-A-Real Chocolate Frog and see what he'd been given. He'd never heard of this type of sweet before, which was rather strange as Dudley had made it a point to parade all his sweets and candies and chocolates and cakes and biscuits and lollipops and other tooth-rotting and fattening puddings in front of Harry, and tell him in excruciating detail how delicious they were. Harry supposed that Mr. Fordham's explanation of it being a 'rather new invention' was accurate, and put the matter aside. Slowly, silently, he reached for the candy, and pulled it towards him where he could see better what the wrapper looked like. It was garishly striped in turquoise and maroon, two colors that reminded him more of his schoolteacher's hair and Uncle Vernon's face than anything else. Of course, Harry realized, they hadn't really asked his opinion as to the packaging, although if asked, he certainly would have been willing to suggest a more, shall we say, subdued color scheme, perhaps one that suggested a frog, or chocolate, or anything non-violent.
The writing on the wrapper, what he could make out through the eye-jarring decoration, informed him that this was, in fact, a Wonka's Almost-As-Good-As-A-Real Chocolate Frog, apparently with "Real-Life-Like Eyes, and Webbed Feet!" But what really caught his attention was the assertion that this Frog, although being formed exclusively from chocolate, had "Genuine Frog-Like Croaking Noise!" Harry had never heard of a sweet making noise before, except for the Toot-Sweets that Dudley had once bought, on the mistaken assumption that they made the consumer pass gas, an assumption that provided for brisk sales, but many disappointed young customers. But, he supposed, he certainly wasn't up-to-date on advances in candy-making science, and for all he knew, they could make one that jumped as well as made croaking sounds when squeezed.
Having never had chocolate, much less a whole chocolate bar to himself, he was a little bit concerned as to the best way to open the package. Would he get in trouble for ripping the paper? Was there a specific end that he needed to open first? What he really needed, he realized, was opening instructions. Once again, if he ever had the opportunity to put forth an opinion about packaging, he would suggest that they maybe put a little diagram at one end showing how and where to open the wrapper.
Eventually deciding that he probably wouldn't get into trouble no matter how he opened the paper, he chose an end, and very carefully tore it a little bit. After waiting a decent interval, on the off chance that one of the Dursleys might have heard, or the Chocolate-Opening Police would be alerted, he finished tearing off the end. Looking inside, he saw a deep brown leg, which he supposed looked kind of like a frog's leg, albeit one that looked rather more tasty than normal frogs' legs are wont to do. But, to his great surprise, he saw something else, something golden. Fingers shaking, he up-ended the package and watched as the Wonka's Almost-As-Good-As-A-Real Chocolate Frog fell out onto his bed. And then It fell out, fluttering slightly as it descended to lie gently on his bed. A Golden Ticket.
Now, Harry was not so cut off from the world that he didn't know what a Golden Ticket was. He had, of course, overheard Dudley yelling at his mother about the whole idea, and had caught snatches of conversation from other children in the neighborhood. Knowing about it, however, was much different than actually seeing a Golden Ticket. And far from just seeing a Ticket, Harry actually had found one for himself! He didn't really know what to do--nothing in his wildest flights of fantasy, which were rather tame, actually, and mostly had to do with getting enough to eat and a good night's sleep, had prepared him for the idea that he would be able to tour the world-famous Wonka's Chocolate Factory. His first thought was, quite naturally, "There is no way I'm telling any of the Dursleys about this!" He knew beyond any doubt that if a hint of his good fortune were to reach their ears that the Ticket currently lying on his thin mattress would be confiscated and he would never have the pleasure of even seeing it again, let alone using it.
He had a perfectly good hiding place in the narrow part of the cupboard, but he was rather worried that even it might not be hidden enough, so he commenced a search of his cupboard to see if, perchance, there was another, better place that he could stash his incredible find. He didn't have a lot of hope--having lived in said cupboard for most of his almost-eleven years, he knew it intimately--but tonight seemed to be a night of blessed good fortune. On one side wall, up towards the top, the wallboard had pulled slightly away from the studs, leaving a gap, into which Harry could slide something thin, small, and highly valuable. He positioned himself in such a way as to imitate his uncle poking his head into the small space, and felt rather pleased that the new hidey-hole wasn't anywhere close to being visible. It was only if one put one's head all the way to the foot of the bed, and looked up slantwise towards the top, that it was even noticeable, and that as just an imperfection in the wall.
Before hiding the Ticket in its new home, however, Harry noticed that there was writing on it. The writing was done in a rather old-fashioned script, and read thusly:
Congratulations! It gives me more pleasure than I can express to present to you this Golden Ticket! That which you hold in your hand is your passport to more excitement and thrills than you can even begin to imagine. Please present yourself promptly at 8:00 AM on Saturday, July 31st, at the front gates of Wonka's Chocolate Factory. You may bring with you one (1) parent or guardian, if you so desire, to accompany you on this incredible excursion. Thrills and wonders await you, so prepare yourself for a day you'll never forget!
Harry was more excited than he had ever been in his life. He, of course, wouldn't be inviting any of the Dursleys to go with him--that would involve telling them what he had. He decided, though, that it wouldn't be a bad idea to have an adult that he trusted go with him. The only problem was that he didn't know of any adult that fit the bill. This would definitely bear further thinking.
------
A/N: The world of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang is owned by Ian Fleming, although the delightful book doesn't mention Toot Sweets. So, they are probably owned by the authors of the script, Ken Hughes, and surprisingly enough, Roald Dahl. See? It's one big circle thingy.
Chapter 3: Chapter 3, The Red-Heads
With only a week to go, Harry had a brilliant thought. Charlie had been very nice to him–maybe he wouldn’t mind accompanying him to the Chocolate Factory. The flaw in this plan, though, was that Harry had no idea how to contact the old man. After some thought, while mowing the front lawn, he decided that the only thing for it was to go back to Bon-Bons ‘n’ Things and ask Mr. Fordham if he knew how to get in touch with the kindly gentleman. Having made his decision, he starting trying to figure out how to find the time to go on his excursion.Luckily, the next day the perfect opportunity was provided to him. Dudley, having grown so big that Uncle Vernon’s old Smeltings uniform wouldn’t fit him, a feat that Harry would have believed impossible had he not seen it with his own two eyes, had to be taken into London for shopping. Aunt Petunia arranged with batty old Mrs. Figg for the care and feeding of Harry for the day, but Harry knew that he’d be able to take a quick trip to the store.
After securing Mrs. Figg’s permission, he walked the few blocks to where he remembered was Mr. Fordham’s store. Upon entering the establishment, he was greatly taken aback to see that the entire place was packed. Children of all shapes and sizes were clamoring for something from poor beleaguered Mr. Fordham. After listening for a bit, he realized that the most-requested item was the Wonka's Almost-As-Good-As-A-Real Chocolate Frog. He considered that it had probably made quite a hit amongst the neighborhood children–he himself had greatly enjoyed the sweet, especially the amazingly realistic croaking, and hoped that perhaps in the future he might be able to buy himself another one.
Standing unobtrusively towards the back, Harry quietly watched the crowd of youngsters, noticing the incredible variation in hair color and size. One set of children particularly drew his attention, as they had the brightest hair of anyone he’d ever seen. It was a flaming red, and looked like it would probably glow at night. Harry tried to count the red-heads, a job made very difficult due to the constant motion of the crowd. He thought there might be three or four of them, at least, of the child-sized variety, and one adult woman, who seemed to be constantly correcting, chiding, and remonstrating a pair of the redheaded boys. Although it seemed as though she was mostly being ignored, Harry did notice that the shortest of the redheads, who must be a girl, judging from the length of her hair, which was almost to her waist, seemed to be listening to the woman and giggling to herself at the antics of the others.
Watching the family, for such he supposed it must be, he was overcome with a desire to have the same type of relationship that he saw demonstrated by the redheads. He didn’t know what it would be like to have a brother, or a sister, although he supposed it must be better than having a bullying cousin. But what really tugged on his heartstrings was the obvious love emanating from the mother of the children. She certainly wasn’t completely calm and loving at all times, he could tell just from her interactions with her children, but neither was her face tinged with the perpetual sneer of Aunt Petunia. She just looked like a loving mother who occasionally lost her patience with her rambunctious family.
As Harry had been standing there watching the mother, the little girl had, unnoticed by Harry, migrated closer to him. In fact, she seemed to be coming over to him with a purpose in mind. Harry, to the best of his memory, had never seen this girl before, and couldn’t think of why she would be wanting to talk to him.
“Hi there,” she chirped. “I’m Ginny. What’s your name?”
Harry was a bit taken aback by her overt friendliness, but responded courteously to her inquiry.
“I’m Harry.”
At this, the young girl's eyes flickered up, for the briefest of instants, to his forehead. Harry couldn't think of why she'd be interested in his forehead. Maybe his scar was showing. He wasn't exactly embarrassed about the lightning-bolt scar that he sported, but didn't exactly like the attention it attracted, so he had, as usual, combed his fringe down over it that morning.
Obviously his hair was still hiding the scar, for the girl looked back into his eyes and continued chattering at him, although Harry noticed a faint sound of disappointment in her voice.
“Harry’s a great name! You must be really lucky to have such a wonderful name! Do you know the story of Harry--”
At this point, the girl’s mother interrupted her. “Ginny! Are you bothering this poor young boy?”
“No, Mum! I was just introducing myself to him. He wasn’t looking like he was having very much fun, and I wanted to see why not,” came Ginny’s reply.
Harry hadn’t thought he was looking particularly sad or depressed, but then, he supposed, if one was continually surrounded by the cheer evident in the redheaded family, his neutral, careful watchfulness might be mistaken for bad humor.
“Hello young man, are you all right?” Ginny’s mother, having been successfully diverted from her interrogation by the prospect of a youngling with a problem, immediately latched onto Harry as a possible beneficiary of her mothering.
“Yes ma’am. I’m fine. I just needed to talk to the proprietor, but didn’t want to get in the way of anyone buying candy.”
The redheaded woman looked a little taken aback at Harry’s answer.
“You mean you didn’t come to buy chocolate? All my children begged and pleaded with me to bring them here because of the rumors.”
At this point Ginny inserted herself into the conversation. “No, Mum, not all your children–Bill and Charlie are gone, and Percy didn’t want to come!”
“Yes dear, you’re right, Percy would rather study than come to the candy store, especially since he’d have to miss more time due to the travel.”
Ginny looked at Harry, and explained that they actually lived outside of Devon, in a hamlet called Ottery St. Catchpole.
Harry had never heard of this small village, but that didn’t surprise him–there were many places that he was sure he hadn’t heard of. His world primarily consisted of Little Whinging, and, occasionally, London, which he had seen when on shopping trips with the Dursleys.
The nice woman then turned her attention back to Harry. “I’m sure I don’t know why we had to come all the way to Surrey for chocolates when there’s a perfectly good candy store in town.”
Ginny was aghast at her mother’s comment. “But, Mum, don’t you remember? This is the place where the Golden Ticket was found!”
Harry just about had a heart attack at hearing what Ginny said. How had she known that he had found a Golden Ticket? He hadn’t told anyone, and was sure that no-one had found it in his cupboard. Mr. Fordham didn’t even know, and aside from him and Charlie, no-one had even known he’d gone to that particular candy store. His heart beating at twice its normal rate, he surreptitiously prepared himself to run out the door if it proved necessary.
Fortunately, Ginny’s mother defused the situation with her next comments. “Ginny, even if this were the right place, that was 50 years ago! That doesn’t mean that there’s any greater chance that one of the Golden Tickets will be found here than any other of the millions of candy stores in the world. Honestly, you children, saving up all your gold, I mean pounds, just so you could come here and try to get a Golden Ticket. Why you can’t save it for your trips to Hogsmeade I’ll never understand.”
Harry was sure he’d heard the lady comment about “gold”, but that thought was driven out of his head by the mention of a place called Hogsmeade. He hadn’t ever heard of that city either, but it sounded slightly familiar, as if he’d dreamt about it, or it had been mentioned in passing in his earlier childhood.
“What’s Hogsmeade?” he asked the woman, whom he was starting to think of as a wonderful mother. She was not his mother, of course, but he felt that maybe she'd be at least willing to treat him as if he weren't a nuisance, as a mother should. He hadn’t met very many good mother figures in his life; Aunt Petunia certainly wasn’t one in his eyes, although he postulated that perhaps to Dudley she was.
“Oh, um,” and, surprisingly, she seemed rather flustered. “It’s the closest town to the school that my children attend. It’s up in Scotland, and they have the opportunity to go to the village on certain weekends throughout the school year. Usually they spend all their money there at the sweet shop.”
At this point their conversation was interrupted, or rather, shattered, by the appearance of the three other redheaded children. Two were, Harry noticed, identical twins, whereas the third was a young boy, slightly smaller than the twins, but taller than both Harry and Ginny.
Through their confused chatter, Harry understood that they were done buying their sweets. One of the twins handed a small bag to Ginny, saying “Here you are, ickle Gin-Gin. Trust your brother George to fulfill his quest for his favorite sister.”
“I’m your only sister, you prat, and you’re Fred, not George,” was her answer, although the severity of the words was belied by the smile on her face. “And thank you for being willing to buy my candy for me.”
“Of course,” the boy, who apparently was Fred, said. “We wouldn’t want you to get trampled by that mob in front of the counter. Besides, it gave us a great opportunity to prank your sweets!” This last sentence was said in a much lower tone of voice, apparently out of a desire to ensure that his mother didn’t hear it.
Harry was rather startled by Fred’s words. His only experience with pranks were of the unkind sort, that usually ended in embarrassment, pain, or both. Ginny hadn’t reacted very strongly to Fred’s words, and that worried Harry. He urgently took Ginny’s hand and drew her away from the rest. “Be careful! Don’t let Fred prank you. Pranks aren’t fun!”
Harry was rather perplexed when Ginny just laughed.
“Oh Harry, don’t worry about it. Fred knows better than to do that to me. He’s just teasing me.”
Ginny’s blithe dismissal of the possibility didn’t make Harry feel too reassured, but he supposed that she knew her brothers better than he did. His curiosity took front stage now, and he asked her what Fred had bought for her.
She pulled him farther over to the corner so they’d be out of sight of her mother, let go of his hand (somewhat reluctantly, if truth be known), and opened the bag. Reaching her hand inside, she pulled out two garishly-wrapped chocolate bars.
“Well, this one is a Wonka’s Nougatalicious Noggin-Knocker. It’s supposed to be so good it makes you feel like your head is exploding.” Harry didn’t know whether that was a good endorsement or not, but didn’t want to argue with this person, who was fast becoming Harry’s very first friend.
“And this other one is a Wonka’s Creamy Caramel Chocolectable! I’ve always loved caramel, but this is supposedly the best caramel ever created, and it comes with a collectible card showing a famous fictional character from children’s literature.”
Harry could tell that Ginny was a naturally happy girl. The glow from her smile was infectious, and he found himself grinning back, extraordinarily glad that he’d come to visit the candy store today. Recognizing that it was her presence that had made him feel so happy made him exceedingly eager to share something with her. Casting about in his memory for something, he came to the conclusion that there was really only one happy thing in his life.
“Ginny, do you want to know a secret?”
Ginny’s smile, if possible, became even brighter. “Of course, I love secrets. Well, I guess I don’t love secrets that my brothers keep from me–that happens way too often. But I like to have secrets from them!”
Her enthusiasm served to quell the last remnants of worry that he had. But he felt he should probably impress on her the importance of keeping it quiet.
“Okay, I’ll tell you, but you have to promise to not tell anybody, okay?”
“Of course–I would never betray a secret of one of my best friends.” Ginny turned a little pink at saying this, and looked shyly down at her shoes for a bit. Glancing back up at him, she was happy to see that he hadn’t gotten upset at her presumption, and was, in fact, smiling even more than before.
Harry, having never had a best friend before, was ecstatic. He had hoped that she would consider him a friend, but had never even entertained the notion that she might think of him as anything more than “that guy I met in the chocolate store”. This was beyond his wildest dreams. He realized that he might not ever see her again, since she lived so far away, but at least he’d know that somewhere in the world, he had a friend.
“Okay, here’s my secret. The other day, I got a candy bar from here, and it had a Golden Ticket inside.”
It was a tribute to Ginny’s nature, that she didn’t doubt Harry in the least. She trusted him, despite having known him for only a little while, and he didn’t have the feel of someone who was lying to her–something she’d had a lot of experience with, thanks to her siblings. She was, however, rather astounded at the shyness with which he announced this secret of his. Had it been she who had found a Golden Ticket, she would have been screaming it from the top of her house.
Eventually she realized that the silence between them had stretched to the point of discomfort, and that Harry was looking rather disappointed, as if he thought she would call him a liar, or worse.
“Really? That’s wonderful! How did you feel? That must have made your parents so happy!”
Harry’s face, which had started to relax again when Ginny started talking, turned sad again by the end of her last sentence.
“I don’t have any parents–I live with my aunt and uncle,” Harry whispered.
“Oh, I’m so sorry for you. Are they at least happy for you?” Ginny hoped that she could make things right, after having so unexpectedly caused this sad note to enter into their conversation.
“Well, I haven’t exactly told them.” And with that, Harry gave her a quick explanation as to what would happen if the Dursleys ever found out about the Golden Ticket. Ginny was sure that there was more about his relationship with his caretakers that he wasn’t saying, but didn’t want things to get even more depressing than they already were.
“So, have you decided whether you’re going to take someone with you?” Ginny thought about suggesting that he ask her mother, but didn’t think that he would be too comfortable with that, and didn’t really want the fuss that would come with her mother getting involved. Her mother was well-known for blowing things way out of proportion, and would almost certainly insist on telling Harry's Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Ginny's mother was very loving, and took very good care of her children, but this led to one of her major failings--the inability to believe that any parent would do less than their best in taking care of a child. This would, of course, be disastrous in Harry’s situation.
Harry then explained about the old man, and how he had hoped to find out how to contact him via the owner of the candy shop. “But I haven’t been able to get up to the front to even ask Mr. Fordham.”
Ginny got a calculating look on her face, and Harry could tell that she was trying her hardest to figure out how to get him what he needed.
“Okay, here’s what we’ll do. We need to sneak over there next to that tall man--” But she didn’t get any further in her explanation, as, at that point, Harry interrupted.
“That’s him! That’s Charlie! I don’t know why I didn’t see him before.”
“Maybe he was invisible, and just appeared there when we needed him,” was Ginny’s suggestion. Harry just chuckled at that, but, surprisingly, Ginny didn’t seem to think the idea was as far-fetched as he did.
“Well, whatever the reason, let’s go ask him while he’s here.”
The two children made their way, with considerable difficulty, over to Charlie, who looked like he were examining the merchandise for possible purchase.
“Excuse me, sir,” Harry said, tentatively.
“What did I tell you about calling me ‘sir’?” Charlie responded with a large smile on his face. “I’ll always be Charlie to you, Harry. Now, what can I do for you?”
“Well, um, I’m not sure how to tell you. But, see, when I was here last time, Mr. Fordham gave me a chocolate bar, and it had one of the Golden Tickets in it.”
“Did it? That’s fantastic, Harry! I’m so happy for you.”
Charlie seemed genuinely happy for Harry, but Ginny noticed that the surprise on his face seemed a little too forced to be completely natural. If she'd known him better, she might have said something, but was a little reticent, since this was Harry's friend, not hers. At least, he wasn't her friend yet.
Harry nervously continued, "Well, the thing is, the ticket says I can have one parent or guardian come with me. I don't have a parent or guardian who'd be willing to accompany me. I don't think it's absolutely necessary that I have an adult with me, but I don't think I'd want to be the only one there without one. So, I was wondering--do you think you'd be willing to come with me?"
At this request, Charlie's face froze. Harry was rather concerned at the strange look in Charlie's eyes, but didn't know what to make of it. Charlie, for his part, didn't know what to say either. He had never anticipated this happening, and was at a loss for how to proceed. He certainly couldn't agree to help the boy get to the Factory--that was completely out of the question. Perhaps... yes, that would work.
"Harry, I'm so sorry to have to tell you this, but I don't think I can do that--I'm going to be too busy that day, and wouldn't be able to take the time necessary to be your guardian on the tour. But, I've had a thought. I have a friend that lives near you--we went to school together, and I've kept in touch over the years. She's a very sweet lady, and I'm sure she'd be willing to take you to the tour. In fact, she would probably really enjoy it. Would you be willing to have her go with you instead?"
Harry was rather saddened by this news, although he supposed that it had been rather unrealistic to expect that Charlie would be free at a moment’s notice. Beside, this would probably be better than going alone. "Well, okay, but I'm a little nervous about meeting this friend of yours. Do you think you could introduce us?"
"I'm sorry Harry, I can't right now, but perhaps tomorrow we can go. Can you meet me there? It's a little yellow house at #6 Magnolia Crescent."
Yet another surprise in a rather long line of surprises hit Harry as he realized that the address given was none other than that of batty old Mrs. Figg. "You know Mrs. Figg?" he exclaimed, his shock causing him to speak rather abruptly.
Charlie was also surprised at finding out that Harry knew Mrs. Figg so well. "Why yes, she is the school-mate I was talking about. How do you know her?"
Harry explained that she was the babysitter that the Dursleys depended on to watch Harry when they needed to leave him behind, which was, of course, quite often.
After a little more conversation, in which Harry finally remembered his manners and introduced Ginny to Charlie, who was fast becoming Harry's second friend, the trio parted ways. Ginny and Harry headed back toward her family, who were busy looking through their purchases and comparing the wonderful treats they had found. Ginny's mother had threatened them all with vague, yet terrifying, punishments if they opened any of their purchases in that mob of people. "After all, what if you actually did have a Ticket inside? It would cause a stampede!" Harry and Ginny giggled together at that, knowing the secret that they did.
After rejoining the rest of Ginny's family, Harry bid them farewell, knowing that he needed to get back to Mrs. Figg's house, both because she would be expecting him soon, but also to discuss her being able to accompany him to the Chocolate Factory. But, as Harry was just about to leave, Ginny pulled him aside to whisper urgently in his ear.
"Harry, I'm a little bit worried about Charlie."
"Why is that, Ginny? He seems very nice to me, and has always been very helpful."
"There is just something that doesn't add up. When you were telling him about the Factory tour, you never told him when it was. But he already knew he was going to be too busy on that day. How did he find out the date?"
"Didn't they announce it over the telly?"
"I don't know about that, Harry, we don't have one of those. But the newspaper just said that the date would be announced later, after all the Tickets had been found."
"But my Ticket had the date on it--maybe I'm not supposed to tell anyone when it will be."
"But that still doesn't explain how Charlie knew about the date already."
This was all very startling for Harry--he couldn't explain it to his own satisfaction, but he couldn't believe that Charlie had any evil intentions.
"I don't know, Ginny--maybe he is going out of town for the next couple of months, and just figured he'd be busy. But, whatever the reason, I don't think it's enough to make me not like him. But I will pay a little more attention when I next see him, to see if there's anything I should be concerned about."
Ginny figured that this was acceptable, and bid her new friend goodbye. Feeling daring, she stepped in and gave Harry a hug. Harry was shocked at this. He had seen a hug before, but had never, as far as he could remember, been the recipient of one. It felt . . . nice. It was warm, and comforting, and he decided that he could certainly understand why people seemed to be hugging a lot in those shows that Aunt Petunia watched in the middle of the day. He finally realized that he could put his arms around Ginny, and did so, albeit stiffly. He was rewarded with one of her brilliant smiles, and felt an answering smile on his own face.
"Thanks Ginny, for being my friend. I hope we see each other again." Had Harry been older, he would have thought to ask Ginny for her phone number, or perhaps her address, although the chances of being able to either use the Dursleys' phone to make a long-distance call, or use their precious envelopes and stamps to send her a letter were minuscule at best.
"You're very welcome, Harry, I'm so glad we decided to come to the candy store today. Perhaps I'll ask Mum to let me take the Knight Bus and come visit you." Ginny didn't think that was very likely, but her parents had consistently taught her to respect them enough to at least ask them for permission, for they would never punish her just for asking.
"What's the night bus? I've never heard of it before," Harry asked.
"Oh, um, it's a bus that runs during the night and takes people to special places." Ginny hoped that this slight shading of the truth would be enough to answer his question without causing too much trouble.
"That'd be magical, Ginny!" At this, Ginny got a very funny look on her face, but before she could say anything, her mother came over and collected her for their return trip.
"Goodbye, Harry! Thanks for everything!" she called as she was being led away.
"Goodbye, Ginny, my first friend," Harry called back, although the last part was much softer, so much so that he was the only one who heard it.
Chapter 4: Chapter 4, The Fateful Day
Harry's subsequent conversation with Mrs. Figg was rather interesting, punctuated many times by Mrs. Figg's exclamations of disbelief and surprise that Harry should be lucky enough to find a Golden Ticket. She was, of course, very pleased to agree to accompany him to the Factory, and even conspired with him to request his help on the day in question, so that he'd have a reason to be gone from the Dursleys'. Harry wasn't sure that it would be enough to hide his activities, as he was rather sure that Dudley would drag his parents down to the gates of the Factory to see the whole celebration, but after weighing the pros and cons, decided that it would be worth being locked in his cupboard for quite some time to be able to tour the Factory.The rest of the week passed very slowly for Harry, as it usually does when anticipating something extraordinary. About the only thing of note was that Harry walked in on a furious argument that his aunt and uncle were having over where to send Harry to school. Aunt Petunia wanted him to go away, so that she didn't have to see him every day, but Uncle Vernon was equally adamant that he not go to Smeltings, his old school, where Dudley would be going. Since any opinion he cared to venture would be seen as "sticking his freakish nose into respectable business," he just went on his way out to weed the flowerbed.
Eventually the fated day came. Aunt Petunia woke Harry up extra early on the 31st of July, which meant that Harry hadn't had as much sleep as he was used to, since he had stayed up until midnight to mark his birthday--it was the only birthday celebration he would have, since the Dursleys universally ignored this milepost in his life. But he was resigned to this, figuring that visiting Wonka’s Factory was a rather fair trade-off. After making breakfast for his impressively overweight cousin and uncle, and his gaunt aunt, he was sent off unceremoniously to Mrs. Figg's house, with the admonition to "make sure you do everything she says, and don't do anything weird". He had never been as excited to leave as he was this day, and as soon as he was out of sight of #4, ran as fast as he could to Magnolia Crescent.
Mrs. Figg answered Harry's frantic knocking on her door with a "Merciful Merlin, Harry, don't scare me like that!"
Harry was in no shape to notice her strange phrasing, as he was much too excited to get going to the Factory, which was probably a blessing in disguise. After enduring Harry's excited bouncing for exactly four minutes, Mrs. Figg agreed that they should leave then, even though it would get them to the Factory quite a bit earlier than the stated 8:00.
The mis-matched couple walked for a short while, until they found a taxi which they hailed and directed to drive to the Factory gates. The cabby, upon finding out their destination, spent the next ten minutes chattering their ear off about how he had once driven the Buckets, the parents of the boy who had supposedly been lost inside the factory, to the market one day. Harry thought that maybe the driver was somewhat mistaken, as the couple would have to have been rather old, and the driver still in primary school for the timing to have worked out, but he knew better than to contradict any adults in his vicinity.
Harry and his companion arrived at the front gates of the Wonka Chocolate Factory with 40 minutes to spare. They were amazed at the size of the crowd that had already gathered, and Harry just about turned around to go back home. He had never had a good experience with crowds. Well, that wasn't strictly true, he decided. The crowd at Mr. Fordham's candy store had turned out to be a good thing; he had met his new best friend there, and that was certainly all to the good. This crowd didn't promise to be as nice, as there were quite a few very large adults there, which reminded Harry of Uncle Vernon. Thinking of him, he remembered that Dudley and Aunt Petunia were planning on coming to the spectacle, and made a mental note to be aware of his surroundings, so as not to come within grabbing proximity.
Mrs. Figg proved to be a godsend in the crowd. Sometime in her past she must have been a policewoman, or something similar, as she proved by opening up a path straight through the crowd to the area that had been roped off for the lucky children who were to be given their tours today. Harry tugged on her sleeve as they approached, and asked her if they could wait outside the lucky circle until it was the last minute, so that he wouldn't be seen by his relatives. She understood immediately, and took up a post right by the entrance, with Harry somewhat in her shadow, so as to keep him less visible to any undesirable Dursleys.
As they stood and waited, Harry kept a keen eye out to see if he could spot any of the other lucky Ticket finders. The television had been curiously silent on who had found Tickets--not like the last time, when the finding of a Ticket heralded a media frenzy similar to sharks and chum. Endless speculation filled the airwaves, but nary a word identifying the finders passed the lips of the well-coiffed newscasters. Consequently, Harry was rather anxious to find out who his companions on this visit would be.
With fifteen minutes to go, Harry noticed a commotion in the crowd, which looked to be heading towards the entrance to the red-carpeted area. As he watched from the safety of Mrs. Figg's shadow, a young girl, perhaps ten or eleven years of age, entered the area set aside for the Finders. She had rather bushy, brunette hair, looked very curious as to everything that was going on, and had rather pronounced buck teeth. She had with her what looked like her mother, who had the same color hair, albeit slightly tamer, and a beautiful white smile, although it was starting to look a little strained. The young girl seemed to be talking incessantly to her mother, and it looked like most of the conversation involved questions that the mother tried to answer, although her answers usually ended up being overridden by the next question. Harry thought that these two looked nice, although somewhat intimidating.
Slowly the clock on the tower behind the fence crept towards 8:00, and Harry looked around to see if someone else was going to appear and join the girl and her mother in the center. As no-one else came, the bushy-haired girl started to look more and more anxious, as if there were something wrong; perhaps she had arrived at the wrong place, or come too early, or something like that. Harry noticed that she kept pulling out her Golden Ticket and re-reading it, checking, he supposed, to see if there were any instructions that she could have missed. Harry wondered if there had really only been two people to find Golden Tickets, and whether there had been any more produced, and what Wonka would do if someone found a Ticket after today. The clock started striking 8:00, and Mrs. Figg took Harry by the elbow while saying "Okay, Harry dear, it's time to go in."
Harry took a deep breath, straightened up to his fullest height, which was much less imposing than he wanted it do be, and the two walked forward. From the left side he heard an incredulous shout. "Mum, what's the Freak doing here?" It was Dudley, who'd noticed his cousin almost in an instant. Harry looked down, tightened his grip on Mrs. Figg's arm, and almost pulled her past the ropes separating the red carpet from the rest of the mob. Just as he got to the center, though, he found himself the center of a maelstrom of words and arms, and a whirlwind of red seemed to come out of nowhere.
"Harry, Harry! Where have you been? I've been searching the crowd for you and couldn't find you and I was afraid that you weren't going to make it, or that you weren’t able to get Mrs. Figg to come with you. Can you believe it? I found a Ticket too! It was in my Wonka’s Creamy Caramel Chocolectable! I didn't get the fictional character collectible card, but this was so much better! I was so excited to find it and know that I'd be able to go on the tour with my best friend, but I didn't know how to let you know what was happening, so I've been looking for you all morning! But you're here now and I'm so happy!" Ginny seemed, at this point, to run out of breath. Or maybe, Harry thought, she might have realized that there was no way he could answer her if she kept talking so fast.
"Hi, Ginny, it's so good to see you again! I was kind of hiding, 'cause I knew my relatives were going to be here, and didn't want them to see me any sooner than necessary." Harry felt somewhat out of breath, even though he hadn't said all that much. He realized that it was just Ginny that made him feel that way, and decided that it was okay, and actually made him feel happy that there was someone so excited about life.
At Harry's answer, Ginny started looking around, as if trying to spy out the aforementioned Dursleys. Harry gently turned her towards where he had heard Dudley's voice, and pointed out his Aunt Petunia and Dudley. Shock was written across their features, and they were gesticulating wildly and shouting that he was a little thief and had stolen the Ticket from Dudley. Granted, by all rights Dudley should have found one, he had certainly eaten enough chocolate that just the law of averages should have ensured that. But perhaps that law wasn't the only operative force in this whole venture.
After pointing out his relatives to Ginny, and hearing quite a few snide remarks from the girl that made him want to laugh out loud, he turned her towards Mrs. Figg to introduce her and her mother to his temporary guardian for the day. Upon doing so, however, he lost all powers of speech--his mouth dropped open and his eyebrows lifted almost off his forehead. Mrs. Figg and Ginny's mother were chattering away like old friends. This was no less astounding to Ginny, who couldn't think of any reason that Harry's babysitter would be one of her mother's acquaintances. Ginny and Harry shared a look, but as neither one had any answers, they turned back to the chattering duo.
At a break in the conversation, Harry went to introduce Ginny to Mrs. Figg, feeling that at least he should satisfy the demands of politeness in that regard, but Ginny's mother beat him to the punch.
"Ginny, I'd like to introduce you to Arabella Figg. She's been a friend of the family for close to fifteen years now, although we haven't seen her often enough lately."
Ginny politely held out her hand for Mrs. Figg to shake, and said a courteous "How do you do?"
Mrs. Figg took her hand, shook it for a bit, and held it a little longer as she looked Ginny up and down. "Ginny, I'm sure you don't remember me, since the last time I saw you was on your six-month birthday. But you have sure grown into a beauty! That hair is to die for, and you have such fair skin. You're certain to be a heartbreaker when you start school!"
Ginny promptly blushed scarlet, looked down, and mumbled something that might have been "Thank you". Of course, it might just as well have been "Wimbledon" for all anyone could understand it, but they gave her the benefit of the doubt. Harry was happy that Mrs. Figg liked his best friend, but he felt unaccountably uncomfortable hearing the part about Ginny being a heartbreaker. He wasn't sure what that was, exactly, except that it had something to do with pretty girls. But, he decided to not worry about it for the time being, and just enjoy being able to spend the day with his best friend.
It was at this point that the bushy-haired girl could contain her curiosity no longer. "Excuse me, but I'm Hermione Granger. Did you two find Golden Tickets also? I couldn't believe it when I found mine. My parents are both dentists, so we don't usually have many sweets in our house, but it was my birthday and my uncle gave me one of the Wonka's Fudgalicious Funny Fingers. I wasn't going to eat it, but then I saw the news on the telly talking about the Golden Tickets, so of course I had to open up the candy bar, and I just couldn't believe it. How did you find your Golden Tickets? Can I see them? Of course, they're probably exactly like mine, so it wouldn't make any sense to do any type of comparison, would it?" At this point she seemed to run out of breath.
Harry wondered to himself if he were always going to be surrounded by girls who talked as if they didn't know how to stop, but since he was naturally quiet, and was’t used to talking very much, he supposed it was better than having extremely long, awkward silences in a conversation.
Ginny, who looked a little stunned by the brunette's long-windedness, perhaps out of envy, took it upon herself to introduce herself and Harry to the other girl, and they spent the next minute or two competing in seeing who could tell the other more about their experience with the Tickets. Harry, content to let the girls chatter away, started wondering why they had had to be there exactly at 8:00, when here it was, ten minutes after the hour and there was no sign of anything happening from inside the factory. Hoping that whatever happened wouldn't be blamed on him, he turned his attention back to the redhead at his side. After a few minutes of listening to the girls talk, and only understanding about half of what was said, he started to get a little bored. Thankfully, however, their conversation was brought to a halt by the sudden realization that there was someone else in the center of the crowd with them. A tall man was standing to one side, looking on with an amused grin.
"Charlie!" Harry yelled in delight. "I thought you weren't able to come today!"
Charlie's smile grew even bigger at the boy's enthusiastic greeting, and he responded with a chuckle. "Actually, Harry, I told you that I was going to be too busy to be your guardian on the tour. I never said I wouldn't be able to be here on this most auspicious of days."
Harry was rather confused by this--why would Charlie not be able to accompany Harry, yet still be standing there in the center of the crowd with him? His ponderings were cut short by Charlie raising a microphone to his mouth, and speaking to the crowd.
"Good morning, everyone! It is so nice to see you all here with your happy smiling faces!"
The crowd immediately hushed, and, if possible, pressed closer to the red ropes separating them from the celebrities in the middle.
Harry thought that maybe Charlie worked for Mr. Wonka and had been assigned to be their tour guide, or maybe he was the Factory's press agent.
Charlie's address to the crowd continued, and Harry found out just how wrong he was.
"I, as you may have guessed, am Willy Wonka, and I am prouder than I can say to welcome these three young people today. They, and whichever adults they have chosen to accompany them, will be taken on a tour of my whole factory, time permitting, and sample the delicacies found therein. Many wonderful surprises await them, and they will be able to share incredible stories of magic and amazement with their friends and families for the rest of their lives!"
Harry was rather confused at this--his friend Charlie was actually Willy Wonka? Why had he lied to Harry? His look of confusion must have been plainly evident, for Ginny squeezed his hand and mouthed "We'll ask later." Charlie, too, must have seen him starting to frown, for he winked at Harry and smiled for a second before returning to his speech.
"Now, if the Finders will please present themselves one by one, and show me their Tickets, we'll get started on our day."
Unsurprisingly, Hermione, the bushy-haired girl, was the first to step forward. She very clearly introduced herself and her mother, Mrs. Jane Granger, and showed her Golden Ticket to the supposed Mr. Wonka. Charlie shook her hand, and welcomed both her and her mother with a huge smile and delighted laughter.
Ginny looked at Harry and, noting his reluctance, stepped over to her mother, whose hand she took, and walked up to the old man. "Hi, I'm Ginny Weasley, and this is my mother, Molly."
Charlie smiled again at the little redheaded girl and said "Hello, Ginny, it's nice to see you again. I'm so glad that you could come today, especially so that you and Harry could visit together."
Molly, at this point, looked surprised that the famous Willy Wonka already knew her daughter, but managed to control her reactions enough to shake his hand.
Now it was Harry's turn to be presented. He was somewhat loath to do so, but Mrs. Figg took charge and dragged him over to Mr. Wonka. Sensing Harry's confusion and doubt, she greeted Charlie as an old friend would. Harry noticed that she called him Charlie also, and wondered at that too. Surely she'd know who he was, if they'd been schoolmates!
Harry shook Charlie's hand, and looked him in the eye with his startlingly green gaze. "Hi, I'm Harry Potter--" At this he heard a gasp and quick murmuring from Ginny's direction, but continued looking at Charlie. "--and I thought that I already knew you."
Charlie's smile faltered slightly as he took in the slightly hostile look on Harry's face. But he shook hands as warmly as ever, and welcomed him to the Factory. In a much quieter voice, he said, "Harry, I'll explain everything after we get inside--please just trust me that everything I've told you is true."
Harry decided that he could wait to find out the answers, and went over to stand next to Ginny, who was just staring at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. Harry was just about to ask her what was wrong, when Charlie addressed the audience again.
"Again, I thank you for coming this morning to see this wonderful event. Rest assured that I'll take great care of these children and their companions, and they will be safely returned at the close of this most glorious of days." And with that, he turned and walked towards the magnificent front gates, which opened, almost as if by magic, in front of him.
The three children, and the three ladies, followed him inside, then turned to watch as the gates swung ponderously shut. Harry couldn't help but wish that this would be the last time he'd ever have to see the Dursleys, that the closing of the gates would mark more than just a symbolic separation from the people who had made his life exceedingly difficult for as long as he could remember. But he thought of Charlie's words, that they'd be returned safely at the end of the day, and stifled that line of thinking.
Charlie's pace picked up quite a bit, as if he were tremendously eager to get things started, and the rest had to just about break into a jog to keep up. Harry was worried that Mrs. Figg, being advanced in age as she was, would be left behind, but she gamely hung on, and even managed to beat Mrs. Weasley to the front doors.
Chapter 5: Chapter 5, Explanations
Charlie ushered them into the Factory at last, and the visitors found themselves in a marbled entry hall. There were beautiful portraits lining the walls, of some of the kindest-looking people Harry had ever seen. But as Harry looked closer, he saw that the portraits seemed to be made entirely of candy. Chocolate, marzipan, cream, spun sugar and other confections that he didn't recognize were woven together in a bewildering array of colors. Harry decided, right then and there, that being a candy maker must be the most fascinating job in the world. Perhaps Charlie, or Willy, or whoever he was, would like to take on an apprentice?Harry's inspection was interrupted by Charlie again. "Now, my friends, I must take some time away from our tour to explain a few things. I know that I owe young Harry an explanation or two, and I think that there are a few things that I need to tell the rest of you also. Please come into my office and everything shall be made clear," and he pointed them to a small door off to the side that had escaped their notice.
The inside of the office was as beautiful as the entry hall, although much more cluttered, and bore the marks of being used, very often, and only cleaned when necessary. Charlie apologized for the mess, saying that normally everything in the entire Factory was unnaturally tidy, thanks to his many workers, but that he had forbidden them to clean his office for the last three weeks. "Although, knowing them, they've been sneaking in every so often and cleaning where they don't think I'll notice."
"Now, Harry, I'm sure you'd like to know why I have two names, is that correct?"
Harry nodded vigorously, and Charlie continued. "Perhaps the first thing I need to tell you is the name I was born with. I am Charlie Bucket."
At this revelation, Hermione's hand shot into the air, as if she were volunteering to answer a question in school. Charlie's eyes twinkled as he looked over at her.
"Miss Granger, do you have a question?" he asked, with a smile in his voice.
"Yes sir--" Harry smirked at this, knowing what was coming.
"Oh please, Miss Granger, I would really rather you call me Charlie. I feel old enough as it is, without having a beautiful young girl like yourself--", Hermione blushed, "--referring to me as if I were a grandfather."
"Sorry, sir, I mean, Charlie." Hermione looked distinctly uncomfortable at using his first name, and Molly Weasley looked plainly scandalized at the old man's behavior. After a quick glance at her mother, who nodded slightly, she continued, "And you may call me Hermione, if you please."
"I would love to, Hermione. Now, please continue your interrogation."
Hermione blushed even harder at his gentle teasing, but gamely continued. "Are you the Charlie Bucket that went into the Chocolate Factory so long ago and never came out? I read a lot about the so-called Bucket Scandal when the announcement was made about the Golden Tickets being hidden in the chocolate bars again, and the stories seem to conflict about what happened to you after the tour of the Factory. Some of them say that you came out just fine, and it was the other children that went with you that had problems. Some say that no-one ever saw you again. And some even hint that you killed Willy Wonka and stole his entire chocolate empire." At this point, Hermione realized exactly what she was accusing Charlie of, and once again blushed a bright red. Harry wondered if all all the girls he was going to be around would not only talk his ear off, but also spend half their lives a bright tomato red.
Charlie, thankfully enough for Hermione's sake, didn't seem to take offense at what she'd said. In fact, he laughed, and laughed, and laughed. So infectious was his good humor that pretty soon the others in the room were either chuckling, in Harry's case, or giggling, in the two young girls' case, or smiling faintly, in the case of the adults, as they seemed better able to control their reactions.
Finally Charlie was able to control himself, and wiped his eyes and blew his nose. "Hermione, thank you so much. That's the most I've laughed for years. I had forgotten all those wonderful accusatory and inaccurate stories, and I am glad to know that there is at least one person in the world who cared enough to research them and bring them to light again."
Hermione's blush, which had been receding again, came back again in full force, but in this case it was pleasure in being complimented.
"Now, if I may be permitted to speak..." He glanced slyly at Hermione again, delighting in the young girl's discomfiture, and continued. "When I finished the tour of the Chocolate Factory those many years ago, it is true that I was alone. Well, I and my Grandpa Joe, that is. The other children all seemed to have fallen into sticky situations, what with being greedy, and selfish, and having other undesirable qualities that compelled them to make unwise decisions as we toured the factory, most of which decisions were in direct opposition to Mr. Wonka's guidelines. Having made it to the end of the tour, however, I found that the whole contest and tour were expressly designed to find a successor to Mr. Wonka's chocolate business. He told me that he was getting up there in age, and, having no children of his own, had needed to find a child who would be able to take over for him. He selected me! There weren't words to describe how happy I was at this. My family and I moved into the Factory, and I commenced learning everything I could about the chocolate business. As I grew more knowledgeable and was better able to assist him, he took a smaller and smaller role in the day-to-day running of things, and I became the one in charge. He eventually retired completely, and moved to a small island in the South Pacific, where he spends his days lying on the beach and surfing."
Hermione interrupted yet again, although this time she forgot to raise her hand. "You mean he's still alive? That's impossible, he must be about 150 by now!"
Charlie smiled again at the young girl. "He's actually about 137, as of last May. But he's feeling fine and just yesterday popped 'round to see how things were going. If we're lucky, maybe he'll visit today too."
"How is he still alive and able to visit? Shouldn't he be dead by now?" This came from Harry, who, while wanting to believe what Charlie was saying, couldn't quite swallow this. Curiously, Mrs. Weasley and Ginny didn't seem too distraught, nor did Mrs. Figg.
"Ah, well, I will explain that, if you let me continue my story, but I have a few other things to clear up first."
At the nods of the children, indicating he should go on, he resumed his narration.
"So, as I took over a factory named 'Willy Wonka's', it was necessary that I also become Willy Wonka. Thus I have two faces that I present. Willy Wonka is who I am when I'm acting in the official capacity as owner of the chocolate business, and believe me, I can look like an slightly crazy old busybody if I really want to. But I also have found it necessary at times to go out as someone much less recognizable. That is when I become just plain old Charlie, and find it quite liberating."
"But today you showed up as just Charlie!" was Harry's comment to this.
"Ah, well, Harry, that speaks to something else that I need to explain. While it is true that the face you saw today was the face you knew as Charlie, and the same for Miss Weasley, the face that the rest of the people saw was that of the eccentric old gentlemen that is instantly recognizable as the frontman for Wonka's Chocolates."
Harry was floored at this. "How can you show two different faces at the same time? I really don't understand."
Charlie looked with compassion on his young friend, and decided that now was the time to really bring out the big surprises. "Well, Harry, this brings us to the question of why you, and Miss Weasley, and Miss Granger were able to find the Golden Tickets."
Hermione looked rather offended that there might be something besides blind luck that caused her to find a Ticket, but this warred with her instinctive desire to find out everything, so she remained uncharacteristically silent.
"You see, I'm getting older too, while not as old as the original Willy Wonka was, and I decided that I needed to find a worthy successor. Not wanting to run the risk of attracting too many of the wrong, horrid, selfish types of people to the factory, I managed to do a little research and find a small, very small, selection of people that I thought would be good candidates. Having done so, I managed to place myself in proximity to them, and sort of 'guide' them in finding the chocolate bars with the Tickets in them."
Harry was flabbergasted at this--"But Mr. Fordham gave me the chocolate bar that had the Ticket in it!"
"Did you never wonder why that particular bar had 'accidentally' fallen on the floor? Did you never question why I needed to go talk to him before I let you into the shop?"
Harry just stared at Charlie after hearing this. Thinking back, he could remember the almost desperate look on Mr. Fordham's face when he was talking about not being able to sell the chocolate bar in question. He had chalked that up to worry about the lack of income from the sale, but with this new knowledge, he could certainly understand the look better.
Charlie turned to Ginny. "And I was in that shop the day you and your family came, and was able to hand the correct chocolate bar to your brother George--"
"Fred", Ginny interjected.
"Sorry, Fred, so that he could buy it for you. And you, Hermione, have you ever really met your uncle that supposedly sent you the chocolate bar?"
Hermione's mother smiled at this, and commented, "I just thought it was one of Dan's relatives. He probably thought it was one of mine."
"So, you engineered all of us getting the Golden Tickets?" Harry didn't know what to think about this. He was a little bit sad to realize that everything had been planned out ahead of time. But then he started thinking more about it, and a smile grew on his face as he realized that this meant that someone had been watching him enough to realize that he was worth something. That Charlie felt that he, Harry, was a good person. That the Dursleys were wrong in their assessment of him as a selfish freak.
Ginny, on the other hand, had a gleeful look on her face, and was just about jumping out of her seat. Only her mother's calming hand on her arm kept her from springing up and accosting Charlie.
Harry looked over at Ginny, curious as to why she wasn't surprised by all these revelations. "Ginny, why aren't you surprised? Did you already know about all this?"
Molly's hand lost its grip on her daughter as the little girl sprang to her feet, arm outstretched, pointing directly at Charlie. "You're a wizard, aren't you? That's the only explanation for all of this, isn't it?"
Molly's and Mrs. Figg's faces went white as they heard the young girl shatter the International Statute of Secrecy. Charlie, perversely, smiled at her, and calmly answered, "Yes, I am a wizard. Very good for figuring that out, Miss Weasley."
"But, but, what are we going to do about the Grangers?" This came from Mrs. Figg, who was casting worried glances at the pair in question, while still keeping a watchful eye on her charge, making sure that he didn't do something stupid before they could explain things to him.
"Ah, but Arabella, surely you don't think I would have let the Golden Tickets go to just any Muggle, do you? Miss Granger has magic in her too, quite a lot, I suspect. In fact, she should have received her Hogwarts letter already this summer, had I not decided that I would rather provide her a Golden Ticket. This way, when I give her the letter she should have gotten, she will know that she has options."
Harry was lost. He had been trained from a young age to never use the m-word in #4 Privet Drive, and had tried hard to not think about it either, but here were people, grown-ups even, discussing magic as if it were a real, everyday fact of life. Mrs. Figg he had known ever since he could remember, and had never seen her do anything out of the ordinary--how could she talk about magic? Ginny . . well, if anyone were able to do magic, he could believe it would be her. She had brought such a bright spark into his life that he had no compunctions attributing wondrous things to her. But this Hermione girl looked to be quite as lost as he was.
"Charlie," he asked tentatively. "What do you mean by magic? Do you mean pulling rabbits out of hats?" This was the only type of magic he'd been exposed to, that he knew of, and couldn't think of what else they might be talking about.
"No, my boy. I mean real magic. Stuff like this..." and he snapped his fingers and in an instant there was a large Easter basket sitting on the desk at his side. "And this..." and he waved his hand and Harry's chair started floating. "And this..." and a second later, there was a large, real rabbit sitting in the chair where Charlie had been. After a few seconds of everyone staring at the animal, the rabbit turned back into Charlie, although he still had two fluffy bunny ears sticking out of the top of his head, which he didn't seem to notice.
"But you say that Hermione is magical too? Does that mean she's a, what did you say, a wizard?" Mrs. Granger put in. "This would certainly go a long way towards explaining some of the strange things that have happened in our house in the past few years."
Harry was taken aback that the ordinary-looking dentist seemed to be taking all this rather well, but that took second place in his mind to the question that now formed.
"So, Charlie, you say that you're looking for some special child or children to tour your factory. Yet, you chose me. Why?" He asked plaintively.
Mrs. Figg took it upon herself to answer this one. "Harry, didn't you ever make anything happen when you were scared, or mad? Gotten yourself out of danger in some miraculous way, or caused some accident to happen to your bullying cousin?"
Harry thought back to the times when strange things had happened, which usually presaged his most severe punishments. This would certainly explain those incidents.
"So, are you saying that I'm...?" And Harry's thoughts balked at the next logical step in the chain.
"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying." Charlie was smiling directly at him now, a smile of affection and gentleness. "You're a wizard, Harry."