Strange Candy

Summary: On the turn of Charlie's twelfth birthday, a new threat to the factory arises. Charlie learns how important a friend can be. Wonka learns how difficult mentorship can be. Wonka/Charlie friendship, non-slash. Wonka/OC.

Notes: Let's see…-rifles through pockets- I've only got….three Wonka bars on me right now. Willy Wonka's Sweet Sugar Babe gets them all for guessing correctly – it was indeed Homer Simpson who first made the weasel comment. And, uh…a cookie for PucktoFaerie for trying. My gratitude for participating in my insane, psychotic mini-games. And a…um, jellybean for Lady of the Light, for leaving such a long review. Yay long reviews. It's a pink jellybean. Hope you like pink.

I should probably mention something about the genres…this story is mainly about the Charlie/Wonka bonding/friendship angst thingy. I won't be focusing heavily upon the process of falling in love, or sweet, romantic fluff. I can't fluff up this fic without running the risk of ruining it. So I apologize in advance to those Willy Wonka lovesick readers out there.

Also, I would like to add that, for the most part, I am trying to retain most of the movie's energy by adding familiar things. You'll see what I mean later on. Or not. Some of you might hate me for it, or I dunno…

Bad Yachi. Stop thinking aloud in your notes section.

Disclaimer: Consult previous chapter.

Chapter Four: Charlie's Birthday Surprise

Charlie was halfway back to the Chocolate Room when he remembered that he was supposed to wait for Mr. Wonka.

The realization hit him like a sledgehammer. What if Mr. Wonka had gone all the way back to the glass elevator, only to find that Charlie had disappeared? Unfortunately, Charlie didn't have to think hard about that. No doubt the chocolatier would be crushed, perhaps even think that he didn't care about the belated surprise…

Which was most certainly not true. Charlie would give anything to suddenly grow a pair of wings and fly as fast as he could to the Chocolate Room. However, Mr. Wonka had not yet invented a candy for such a miracle, so there was no choice but to run.

Run he did, forgetting all about the piece of wrapper foil in his pocket. He had to catch up with Wonka before he reached the glass elevator!

He reached the end of the hall and crouched through the small door, stepping out onto the springy, eatable grass. A pair of Oompa Loompas passed by, thick, swirled branches of candy slung over their shoulders. They paused to bow a greeting to him, looking mildly startled when the boy rushed past them and up the grassy knoll.

Charlie's heart sunk to his stomach when he saw the empty hillside where the elevator had been. Mr. Wonka was nowhere in sight. It was too late.

Wait a second, the thought occurred to him. He's probably in the Inventing Room. I can get there by boat!

This was all he needed to set across the meadow again, dodging candy bushes and leaping over the odd pumpkin in his hurry to reach the chocolate river. He boarded the bright pink boat without bothering to slow down, causing it to rock back and forth dangerously. The movement threw him off his feet and he landed painfully on one of the benches, bruising his tailbone. Grimacing, he sat up and waved at the Oompa Loompas.

"I have to get to the Inventing Room as quickly as possible!" he said earnestly. As if picking up on his enthusiasm, the small team of rowers -- smaller than before, as only a dozen or so were required to transport such light cargo -- chuckled and began to work their oars. "Thank you," Charlie breathed gratefully.

Truthfully, he had only ridden the boat twice after the factory-wide tour. Both times he'd ended up feeling as if he'd been turned inside out, flipped upside down and knocked over the head several times. He was not particularly looking forward to this boat ride, but what else could he do? He couldn't let Wonka believe he didn't care. Not after all he'd done for Charlie.

Sure enough, when the boat toppled over its first rapids, his stomach did a flip and he clutched at it, trying to retain what was left of his birthday cake from the night before. Before the ride was through, his legs had turned to jelly. When the boat stopped and he stood up, he lost his balance.

Much to his fortune, the Oompa Loompas had taken a much more affectionate liking to him than they had for Mr. Wonka himself. Perhaps it was their partiality for children, or maybe they what they lacked in size they made up in heart. Charlie was delighted that they accepted him. Just as he was about to topple over the edge of the boat, four pairs of small hands reached up to balance him again.

"Thanks," Charlie said to their not-quite-smiling-but-friendly-enough faces. "Again. I don't think I deserve friends like you guys."

Their response came in scattered chuckles, in which Charlie knew he detected some modest humility as they sauntered back to their oars. The drum started up again and he stepped from the boat onto the pathway that led around the alliance of doors. He jogged straight up to the one labeled 'Inventing Room' and heaved the door open.

Charlie stood in the doorway for a long minute as he perceived the room. Things bubbled, boiled, popped, spun, whirred, jingled, slid and jumped, rattled, splashed and bounced as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. But he was not fooled as easily as most would expect a boy his age to be. For one, the Inventing Room was entirely empty. No Willy Wonka. No Oompa Loompas.

For another, and though many practical adults would consider this to be folly, Charlie felt a sort of…tingling of energy in the air. He felt it whenever Mr. Wonka got a new idea, or the Oompa Loompas appeared from nowhere to break into song. That meant Mr. Wonka was around here somewhere, hiding…

Charlie looked straight up at the ceiling for a moment, trying to discern an answer from there. About a split second later, he heard Mr. Wonka yell out from nowhere at all.

"Happy Birthday, Charlie!"

And sure enough, at least twenty Oompa Loompas sprung from their hiding places in such a discharge of music and a loud chorus of voices that Charlie almost fell over in shock. Many more of the small workers formed a ring around the outer part of the room. The yellow-and-green suited ones took up symmetrical positions on either side of the astonished boy, using their adept skills at dance and rhythmic chanting to lead into their surprise song.

"We're glad to say, we have indeed, conferred together and agreed.
It's very clear we can't deny how quickly this year has flown by.

Now it's time to celebrate.
No longer time to contemplate.

For Charlie truly is a find, the rarest youngster of his kind.
Who sees beyond what others see, is patient, willing to believe.

The time has come to realize, that his nature does not surprise
Us in the least, for we are sure that Charlie has a heart so pure.

We could not doubt him in the least,
Watching him on Berry Street,

We surely must have found the best, shining brighter than the rest.
And now it has come to this day, we truly feel that we must say…

Welcome to the factory!"

Charlie watched them perform with wonder in his eyes, grinning until his cheeks hurt at the sight of their innovative new dances, and blushing fiercely under their praise. As always, they vanished like fireflies when the song ended, leaving only two occupants in the room. Willy Wonka was standing just under one of the large contraptions hanging from the ceiling. He looked ready to explode with excitement.

"Mr. Wonka!" Charlie cried gratefully, racing over to meet the chocolatier. "When did you…I mean, that was wonderful, thank you-"

"Oh, don't thank me, Charlie, that was all the Ooompa Loompa's doing, not mine," Willy said with a wave of his hand. "You know, I was thinking about it for a long time, and it just didn't seem fair that you were the only one of the children who didn't get a song!"

"But…I did get a whole chocolate factory," Charlie reminded him.

"You didn't get anything from the Oompa Loompas."

"They didn't have to get me anything. Being their friend is more than anything I could ever ask for."

Charlie was surprised when Mr. Wonka's face fell dramatically, as if hurt. "Oh," he said, narrowing his eyebrows slightly. "Even including birthday presents?"

The boy shook his head, laughing quietly. "No, no, no, I meant that on terms of friendship. I couldn't have asked for better friends than them. And you."

It was Wonka's turn to laugh, and he did so while flashing his teeth in a very amused grin. "You don't pick your friends, Charlie. People aren't flowers, after all."

"No, of course not," was the glowing reply.

"Want the second half of your surprise?" Wonka asked, tilting slightly forward over his cane.

This, obviously, caught Charlie off guard. More than the amazing song the Oompa Loompas had prepared for him? "There's more?" he asked hesitantly.

"Heh, you're very funny, Charlie. I know you're going to love this surprise, I just know it! Here, hold out your arm like this and crouch next to the floor, 'Kay?" Wonka demonstrated briefly, bending his knees and extending his arm out in front of him so that it hovered a few inches from the floor.

Charlie blinked his confusion, but willingly did as he was told. There was no telling what Mr. Wonka had in mind, but he seemed to know what he was doing.

When he was in position, Willy stood up and twisted his head to one side, pressed his top teeth to his bottom lip and whistled. And about three seconds later, a sleek, orange-and-tan critter shot across the floor towards them.

Charlie almost fell backwards when the little animal hopped onto his arm and immediately scurried onto his shoulder. He jumped to his feet and turned his head to stare at it, wide-eyed. A pair of beady black eyes and a quivering, curious nose greeted him.

"Good, he likes you!" said Mr. Wonka brightly. "Isn't he delightful? Look at his little whiskers…"

"I…thank you," Charlie managed to say haltingly. "Though I'm afraid I don't understand."

"My dear boy, what's not to understand? He's a ferret. They're kind of like weasels, but he hates it when people mistake him for one. You should remember that, especially since he's yours now."

"You're…giving him to me?" the boy exclaimed in astonishment, watching the small rodent as it explored its new perch with its little claws. "That's…Mr. Wonka, that's incredible! Thank you!"

"Oh, you're very welcome," said Willy curtly. "And he's not just any ordinary ferret, either. He's specially trained, like the squirrels. Only he's trained to be a watch-ferret, nothing at all like those boring, ordinary ferrets who do nothing but sleep all day long."

"A watch-ferret?" The ferret stopped exploring and lifted its head to stare at Wonka.

"Yeah! Not only will he be your faithful little companion, but he's also trained to go scurrying for help if you were ever in danger! Very useful."

Charlie could only grin, feeling a little foolish for the amount of time he'd spent doing so today. His first real pet! At least, in a way. He supposed he should take Wonka's word for it and treat this little furry creature as he would any of the trained squirrels – respectfully. He didn't want to remember the horror of Veruca Salt's fate when it came to squirrels.

"Does he have a name?" he asked the chocolatier. He gave the ferret a finger to sniff.

"Not yet he doesn't. You get to name him, Charlie," Wonka explained cheerfully.

"But…I don't know of any good names," said Charlie, looking very thoughtful. "He's a bit of an odd color, but I don't think Butterscotch or Taffy would suit him. No, maybe I shouldn't name him after candy." An idea struck him and he craned his neck up at the chocolatier. "Mr. Wonka, what's your middle name?"

Willy made a tense, fidgety look of disgust and wrinkled his nose. "Oswald," he said.

That didn't sound like too bad a name, Charlie thought. It even agreed with the ferret, for one more glance at the rodent's face clearly told him that it was definitely an 'Oswald' as much as its fur was 'Butterscotch' or 'Caramel'. "I think that's what I'll name him. Oswald. If that's all right with you, I mean."

Oswald appeared to be content with the name. Either that or he wasn't aware that he'd just been named. He tucked his little head against his chest and began to preen his fur, as if neither the boy nor the chocolatier were there.

Wonka put on a wavering smile. "Okay, then. Let's take you and our new little buddy…Oswald, to the Chocolate Room. Breakfast can't wait forever, you know."

"Wait, Mr. Wonka-" Charlie began started just as Willy turned to leave. Unseen by the boy, the chocolatier grimaced before timidly turning back.

"Yes, Charlie?"

Charlie felt terrible for bringing this up, especially after the wonderful gift Mr. Wonka had just given him and the extreme kindness he'd ever shown him. There was a question, a small disturbance that tingled in his mind; itched until he could barely stand to keep it all locked in. For a long moment, he and Mr. Wonka stared at each other without so much as batting an eyelash.

"Berry Street," Charlie said at last. "The Oompa Loompas mentioned it in their song. That was the name of the street where I found the ten dollar bill."

Wonka flinched, and Charlie saw it. Above all else, he was confused. There could not have been any possible chance that…no, no it simply could not be possible. "I never told you the name of the street," he went on. "Just that I found the money."

He heard the sound of Mr. Wonka's gloves squeaking against the polished top of his cane as the chocolatier tightened his fingers. It looked as he was going to speak any moment, but continued to hesitate for no apparent reason. Then, he inhaled sharply. "Those confounded Oompa Loompas, always making trouble! I should have known from the start…"

"What?" said Charlie, unable to withhold his bafflement.

Mr. Wonka didn't reply immediately but crouched down on one knee in order to see the boy eye-to-eye. "Charlie, how angry would you be if I told you that the whole tour was just a great big hoax to keep the general public happy and still find a heir to the factory?"

Charlie was stunned. "A h-- a hoax? Why?"

The corners of Wonka's mouth twitched. "Well, gosh darn, Charlie, I just said it. Weren't you listening?"

"Then…" Charlie's throat seemed to swell to twice its size and suddenly, it was hard to swallow. "How? If the tour wasn't real, why did you…I mean, why am I still here?"

"To run the factory when I'm gone," was the casual reply. "That part never changed at all. Fact is, I had my Oompa Loompas keep an eye on your for weeks before I decided to make you my heir. Then all I did was make sure the other tickets were found by the nastiest children in the world, via Oompa Loompa intervention of course, and waited until you found the last ticket."

"But-" the boy found himself arguing at once. The whole concept was too sudden, too unbelievable for him. He could feel Oswald's whiskers tickling his ear as the ferret curled up against his neck, but just barely. "What about the ten dollars? Did the Oompa Loompas put that there, too?"

"Oh, dear boy, no!" Mr. Wonka laughed dismissively as he stood up again. "That happened by accident. Actually, you were supposed to get a golden ticket on your birthday, but Bernard gave your parents the wrong one! It was almost a catastrophe!"

"But I found the money and bought another Wonka bar," Charlie finished quietly, still quite dazed. "So you knew all along that I would win the factory."

"That's it in a nutshell," said the chocolatier, trying to keep the mood lively. "You're not mad at me, are you, Charlie?"

Charlie wasn't sure. To be honest, it was all very shocking to hear, yet there didn't seem to be anything wrong with Mr. Wonka's logic. Actually effect, when he put it into perspective, it was even better than being chosen from a bunch of rotten kids. He had been chosen out of an entire city full of children, and Mr. Wonka had gone through all that trouble just to ensure that he would become his heir. Suddenly, he felt a surge of affection for the strange chocolatier.

"No, not at all," he said at last, smiling when Mr. Wonka closed his eyes in relief. "I'm glad you told me. Am I allowed to tell my parents?"

"Of course you can tell your p—" Mr. Wonka pursed his lips and looked befuddled. " P-p...p…you know, this can't be good for my vocabulary."

"We'll work on it," Charlie promised. "Come on, let's go eat breakfast."

As soon as the door to the small house opened, Charlie could smell the delicious aroma of freshly cooked eggs and bacon, the slight tinge of cinnamon and coffee. Mrs. Bucket, standing at the head of the table and ladling hot soup into a bowl for Grandpa Joe, looked up when she heard the creaking of the hinges.

"Charlie Thomas Bucket!" she said demandingly, putting the pot down on the table and advancing on her son with obvious concern. "I don't know what caused that particular display this morning, but I swear you looked as if you had seen a ghost!'

"Sorry, mum," Charlie apologized honestly, realizing for the first time that he'd given her cause to worry. "I thought I did see a ghost. It wasn't a very friendly one."

The laughing shadows. He had to suppress a shudder just thinking about what they did to Mr. Wonka. At least, if he ever dreamed about them again, he would know it wasn't real. Then he could force himself to wake up.

His mother's warm smile was all he needed to reassure him. "Well, just try to warn us next time you—" Suddenly, she screamed shortly and almost bumped into the table in retreat. "Charlie, what on Earth is that?"

Charlie jolted and quickly brought his hand to his shoulder, remembering too late about Oswald. The little creature, which had been hiding under his collar until this point, had decided to poke his head around the edge of Charlie shirt and was looking around with curiosity.

"Oh, mum, this is Oswald. Mr. Wonka gave him to me a birthday surprise," he explained in a rush, taking the rodent into his hands as if to prove he was harmless. "He's a specially trained ferret. Don't worry, he won't bite."

At this moment, Mr. Wonka happened to step through the door himself, pausing only to lean his cane against the wall and turn to face the rest of the family. "Greetings, Buckets. Doesn't it smell wonderful today?"

Before anyone could muster an answer to that, Mrs. Bucket looked at the chocolatier, clenching the edge of the table with both hands. "It's nice to see you again, Mr. Wonka. I see Charlie…likes the present you gave him."

If Willy was meant to cue into her hint of disdain, he entirely missed his cue. He expressed a short laugh. "A surprise can come in every size," he said, much in the way someone would make an excuse for being late. "I do hope Charlie's new friend is as welcomed as warmly as I was. The poor little guy's been through so much, he could really use the help of a f…a fa…a bunch of great people like you!"

And if Mrs. Bucket had intended to put up an argument about the ferret's presence in the house, she was clearly unable to do so now that Willy had conveyed such importance on the little critter. She sighed and edged away from the table, still unsure of her son's new 'pet', which had returned quite comfortable to the boy's shoulder.

"Charlie, bring him over here," said Grandpa Joe, breaking the uneasy silence. "My niece used to have a ferret just like yours. You know, that's actually a very interesting story-"

As everyone settled around the table, Grandpa Joe told his tale about the little girl and her pet ferret. There was no more discussion about ghosts or bad dreams and neither Charlie nor Mr. Wonka thought to bring up the incident with April Banks.

The discussion led to Oswald and the proper way to care for a ferret, including what they ate, when they liked to sleep, where they liked to hide in case Charlie ever needed to find Oswald in the middle of the night, and so on. Charlie's surprise had taken up so much of his interest that he had utterly forgotten about his charge, which still lay harmlessly folded in his pocket.

Sneak Peek: Another unfriendly visit, the truth about the Wonka wrapper and the convenience of ferrets.