Author's Note (I know, I know, that was a bad idea last time, but here we go again...):

This story is a sequel to my previous story Olive, which was a prequel to the movie Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I would recommend reading and watching those two before embarking on this adventure, otherwise you will have no clue what's going on. If you've already read/watched those: Yay! Thanks for continuing on the story of Olive, Willy, and Charlie. Prepare to meet a new character, too...

Voila! The first three chapters of Purple!


As Charlie knocked on the door, he could hear the sounds reverberating inside. There was no sound of footsteps, though, and Charlie felt his confidence draining a little. Still, this was Mr. Wonka's happiness at stake here. He knocked again.

Still, no reply.

In the middle of Charlie's third knock, the door swung open rapidly, nearly smacking him in the face. Charlie stumbled backwards, and the person leaned forwards to catch him, setting him back on his feet.

"H-Hi," Charlie mumbled. He forced himself to keep his head up and look the person in the eyes. Confidence. Like Olive and Willy had. This turned out to be a mistake, as he was quickly distracted by the boy's eyes. One was a brilliant yin min blue, while the other was a sparkling, golden-brown shade. The boy was also keeping direct, piercing eye contact, which was slightly unnerving. "Um. I'm here to see Olive Slugworth."

The boy's forehead rumpled for a few seconds, as though he did not speak good English and was trying to decipher what Charlie had said. Finally he said clearly, "Mr. Slugworth is not at home."

Charlie then understood what Willy had said about having a voice like chocolate. Surely this boy must be related to Olive himself; surely there couldn't be that many blue-eyed (at least, one-blue eyed) boys running around with voices like that. Other than that, however, this boy bore no resemblance to Willy's verbal picture of Olive. This boy had a heart-shaped face, as opposed to Olive's oval one, and his hair was a brilliant, bizarre shade of white, a colour Charlie had never seen in hair before. However, the boy was wearing a bright purple sweater, something Charlie could easily picture Olive wearing. Hadn't purple been Olive's favourite colour? Charlie had to shake himself several times before he remembered to speak. "When will he be back? I'm sorry, but it's—really important."

Had Charlie lived in the factory too long, away from other humans? Were they all as beautiful as this stranger?

"He will be back soon. Why do you need to see him?"

Well, at least he was direct. Charlie stood straight and met the boy's eyes, pretending the boy was Grandpa George and not a kid that was only a few years older than Charlie himself. "I need to speak to him about something that my...um...father did wrong during his childhood."

Oh golly. Father? That was the word he picked? Charlie did his best not to imagine what Willy's face would've been like if he had been there at that moment. "Please, sir. Um, if he isn't here, may I talk to Camille Slugworth?"

The boy looked startled. "How do you know about Grandma?" He blushed, apparently having let something slip.

"I knew you had to be related to him!" Charlie said triumphantly. "He's your dad, isn't he?"

The boy nodded. "And...you are?"

"I'm Bucket. I mean, I'm Charlie Bucket. I live in Mister Wonka's factory."

"Oh. Well, shoot. Sorry. See, my father has this rule that if a Wonka relation ever comes to the house—"

Charlie covered his eyes. "Please don't shoot me."

"I haven't even done anything yet." The boy sighed. "Stop cowering like that, I'm not going to shoot you. I just have to get you to leave."

"Oh. Well, sorry, but no. I have to get Olive and Willy to be friends again."

"Please? I'll get in a ton of trouble."

Charlie shook his head.

"Lovely. I was hoping you wouldn't be easy to persuade. Come on inside, then, if you're careful no one will see you."

"You're just...letting me in?"

"Yup. I'm kind of curious to hear what you have to say. And dad's not here yet, so so you'll be fine."

Just then, someone from inside the factory shouted, "Whitney!"

The boy looked over his shoulder. "Whoops. I have to go. I forgot about—something. But...can you come back, tomorrow?"

"Sure. Should I bring Mister Wonka?"

"Of course not. That's a terrible idea. Just you."

"Um, okay. Ha-ha." Charlie gave a laugh that was surprisingly like Willy's and tried to ignore the fact that Olive Slugworth's son seemed to have constant mood swings. What was he even getting into?

"Lovely." The boy gave him one last smile and Charlie saw, with some shock, that his eyes were now both the same shade of brilliant blue. "See you."

He turned and slipped back into the factory.

"Wait!" Charlie called. "Your name's Whitney?"

But there was no reply.


Charlie crashed into his house just as darkness had fallen outside. His parents and grandparents had already sat down to dinner, but Willy was nowhere to be seen.

"Goodness, Charlie, where have you been all day? We've been waiting for you."

"I was with Mister Wonka for most of the day." Charlie looked around. "Where is Mister Wonka?"

"He said not to wait for him. He's in one of the middle of his 'breakthroughs.'" Charlie's mother smiled at Charlie. "You can go ahead and start, luv."

Charlie picked up his fork and stabbed it thoughtfully into his steak.

"What have you been doing?" his father asked cheerily. "Working on new inventions?"

"Willy told me a story. Then I went to visit Mr. Slugworth's factory."

Mrs. Bucket spat out her lemonade. Grandpa Joe choked on his steak. Mr. Bucket dropped his fork. Grandpa George slammed his fist on the table. Grandma Georgina said clearly, "Sunshine is lovely!"

"Charlie," Mrs. Bucket said in an effort to be calm, "Why were you visiting the factory of your employer's biggest competitor?"

"Curiosity," Charlie mumbled into his mashed potatoes. "Mum, you know I would never do anything to hurt Mister Wonka!"

Other than call him my parent. That would offend him a bit, Charlie's inner self thought ruefully.

Just then, the amazing chocolatier himself arrived through the crooked door.

"Hello, Willy," Mrs. Bucket said cheerfully. She shot Charlie a look.

"Hullo, all." Willy settled himself into a chair across from Charlie. "Oh, there you are, Charlie. I was looking for you."

"Charlie was just telling us how he was...looking into other chocolatiers. You know, understand thine enemy?" Mr. Bucket said hopefully.

Willy looked at Charlie questioningly. Charlie felt his cheeks reddening and turned his attention to his dinner, but not before he saw Willy mouth, Slugworth?

Apparently Willy took Charlie's silence for an answer. He did not speak again for the rest of the meal, but rose at the end and said quite cheerfully, "Is it alright if Charlie comes and helps me with my current genius invention?"

Charlie watched as Mrs. Bucket smiled a bit. If Willy was being immodest, that meant he was back to normal. "Sure. But Charlie—strict 10:30 bedtime."

"Right, mum." Charlie gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before Willy practically dragged him out of the house and away.

Then, Willy let his smile drop abruptly. "You promised me you wouldn't do anything about what I told you!"

Charlie crossed his arms and leaned against a peppermint tree. "Did not." Still, he was alarmed. He had never seen this side of Mister Wonka before.

Willy grit his teeth together. "Well, promise me now!"

"I won't. I just want to help you and Olive, Mister Wonka. Please."

"You do not want to help us! Well, I'm not sure what you want, but that isn't it!"

"You taught me to show some guts," Charlie said angrily. "Stand up to the people who push you down. No matter how much you may...care about them. I know you love me and I love you, okay? I'm not afraid of anything you'd do."

There was a heavy impact on the candy-cane tree and Charlie saw that Willy had slammed his hand right next to Charlie's head. Charlie closed his eyes and clutched his own skull from the impact of it.

"Believe me, Charlie," Willy said in a soft, cold, manic voice. "You should be afraid of things I might do."

Charlie turned his head away, terror flooding him. Don't cry. DO NOT cry.

Willy looked shocked suddenly. He pulled his purple-gloved palm slowly away from the candy cane tree, and cradled it with his other hand. "Charlie—I—"

He turned and swiftly swept away, never looking back, leaving Charlie leaning against the candy-cane tree. Charlie closed his eyes tightly and took shallow, shaking breaths, sinking to his knees in the candy-grass floor.