Summary: Harry Potter lives with his dirt poor family in the cheapest neighborhood in London. When Harry's offered the chance of a lifetime, the position of Vice President at the Malfoy Chocolate Factory, he switches from rags to riches. But why exactly was Harry chosen as the vice-president? Who's really running the mysterious factory, and what bloody secrets actually lay behind its brick walls?

Warning: Totally AU, slash, fraternization, lol, surrealistic and at times this will be down right odd. But I had the random idea and here it is on…digital paper. Oh and if you couldn't tell from the title, this story's a twist on Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory except starring the Harry Potter cast.

Disclaimer: My usual, insert witty disclaimer here.

Some people feel vulnerable at night. I don't. When the sun sets over the city, London is my playground. The only playground I ever got. My house, if you can call it that it's really more of a shack, has no backyard with flowers and a swing set. My house isn't near one of those cute little rustic playgrounds people think are in the city.

In this part of the city there are no children. And what children are here, are broken sad little things. I used to be a broken sad little thing. I guess on the inside I still am, a broken little thing.

I'm still small for my age, I'll turn eighteen in a week on October 31st. But at my current age of seventeen I'm only 5 feet six inches. I doubt I'll be getting any taller. I have black hair, really true black, not dark brown, pure black. It's a shaggy mess, I usually just snip off the ends at home if it gets to long. Right now it's just hit the nape of my neck. I'll have to break out the scissors soon. I have green eyes, big, dark green eyes. I have my mum's eyes.

I'm not really proud of my eyes. People tell me they're very pretty. I'm sure they're lovely but every time I look in the mirror I see my mother. I see the failure she's become. Once upon a time when I was still in grade school she would walk me to school give me a kiss on the check and go off to work. Now days she just sort of lies in bed and watches tv…the only tv all day and all night.

All she does now is cry and whimper how this is all wrong, how she deserves better. How she wishes I was as good as my dad. My long dead dad. Mum never told me what happened to him. Only that he died, once upon a time she's kiss my cheek and say, 'it's not your fault sweetie, just bad luck.' Now days its, 'You were so much trouble, if he didn't have to worry about you, your dad might still be alive.' Of course there's no vehemence in it, she's far to tired for that.

My name's Harry Potter, I live in the slums of London and my job is to pick pockets and frighten little rich children away from the slums.

The day my life changed forever was just like any other day. I walked back from the city, doing my best to avoid people and glare at the ones who looked rich. If I saw any well to do children daring each other to dash into the slums I would do what I always did. Walk into the slums, then turn into an alley and scream bloody murder. It got them every time.

I had fifteen dollars in my pocket, some of which I'd stolen from a stupid young man and the rest I'd gotten using my good looks and flirting with girls so I could slip into their purses and snatch a few bucks.

My hands were stuffed in my ratty jeans pockets and the denim jacket I wore was also ratty, but in better condition. It was starting to get cold, which was always a sign of my coming birthday. The sun was setting behind me, sucking in the last bits of warmth in the air. I resisted the urge to take my hand from my pocket and grab at the air, hoping to catch a little sliver of warmth for myself and keep it forever. God knows there's no warmth in my house.

I reached my shack and sighed. It was not a sight for sore eyes…because it would probably give them an infection. The only slightly house like object we own was the black mail box. It was dented, crooked, and the red flag thing was broken, but it still made me smile. When I was a kid I would pretend the shack was a real house, with a real family inside, with one of those huge feasts waiting on the table for me. It took me a few years to learn it would never be a real house with a real family with a real feast inside, no matter how much I wished.

As usual I opened the mail box and checked for any new mail. I took out a flimsy stack of envelopes. Bills, tossed that away, taxes, again I tossed it away, and some other shit I didn't care about. I paused at this next envelope. It was expensive, with little gold leafing around the edges. I flipped it over and nearly whistled. Damn, this thing even had a seal. The seal was a building, with smokestacks with smoke pouring out of them. Interesting.

I ripped the envelope open, removed the letter and tossed the envelope on the wind.

Dear Mr. Potter

You have been selected to be the Vice-President of the Malfoy Chocolate factory. Tonight we humbly request you to join us for dinner at, Le Beck Fin. All will be explained then, please dress formally. A limo will pick you up at your house at 7 P.M. If you are late the limo will leave with you out. This is a once in a life time chance and we suggest you take it.

-Yours, Draco Malfoy.

I paused, Draco Malfoy…Where had I heard that name. Oh well, I shrugged and re-read the letter. Even after two reads it still left me confused and puzzled. Well ignoring the fact that a multibillion dollar company had just suddenly asked him to be it's vice president, it was a rather pushy note. It bordered on threatening. What the fuck did this company want with scum like him?

And why did it keep saying we? We humbly request you, We suggest you take it, not I suggest you take it, because I assume Draco is writing the letter. If I were any dumber I might even think that Draco had some sort of multiple personality disorder. Well he is rich, so I suppose it doesn't matter what sort of disorder he has.

I sighed and walked inside, mind still buzzing with questions. I opened the door to the shack and walked past the buzz of the Tv in the left corner and the figure of my sleeping mother. I checked the time, it was 6:30. My room was small, very small. It had room for a bed and a nightstand, that's it. There was a small window on the outside wall though, when I was a kid I'd stare out at the moon and ignore the screaming of the people outside. I dreamt I could fly to the moon.

Tossing the letter on the bed I flung open the closet and looked at my clothes. I had two other pairs of jeans, two shirts, and an assortment of stolen jean jackets. On the floor of the closet were old clothes. I dug around in that pile till I finally found a pair of chocolate brown corduroy pants. Shirt wise the only half decent thing I had was an emerald green turtleneck. It was a little worn, but over all in good condition. I added my usual black studded belt to show that I was a badass.

Once I was dressed I heated up some food for my mum and left it by her bed along with a quick note of explanation, stating I would be back late and she shouldn't worry or stay up waiting. Not that she would do either, but still, a guy could pretend.

I waited outside, hands in pockets, a little nervous, but mostly apathetic. There was no way a limo was actually coming, and there was no way they wanted me as a Vice-President. How had they even found me? I chided myself for even thinking about it. It was obviously a joke or something.

When the limo rolled in front of the shack five minutes later my jaw dropped and my tongue nearly fell out of my mouth. I reached out and touched the limo just to be sure ii hadn't imagined it. When the front door swung open and a man dressed in a black suit walked up to me, I nearly bolted.

"Harry Potter?" He asked.

"Uh huh."

He opened the door for me and a smooth chocolaty voice drifted out, "Come in Harry. I've been waiting."

"He's been waiting." The driver said in a monotone voice.

"…I realized, thanks." I couldn't keep my sarcastic wit the myself. I took a deep breath and slipped into the car, not prepared for what was awaiting me.

A/N: So didcha like it? If you read it just review anyways, I take one word reviews! constructive comments are welcomed also. Just please review. Depending on how many I get I'll continue.