There it is, he thought. Maybe now I'll be able to actually learn something about Muggles. An eleven-year-old James Potter walked down the street in one of the suburb towns of London to a small record store that was sandwiched between two larger department stores. He had grown up just outside, near the forest, and had never had much contact with the non-magical denizens of his small world. His parents had always kept him in the small wizarding community to "protect him." They weren't prejudiced in the slightest, but James was a young boy with an advantage, and his highly competitive spirit never helped him. Finally, though, his parents had allowed him to investigate the vast curiosities that had always surrounded him. They had told him that when he was old enough to go to school, he would be old enough to interact with Muggles, and here he was, eleven, quite old enough already by his standards, only a few meters from the most popular store for Muggle teenagers.
When James entered the store he was taken aback. They looked like the minions of some strange religion, all dressed in rags and chains. The store was packed and much hotter than the young boy had first imagined-- didn't these people know how to cool a building? Another perplexing factor was the music playing, though he saw no bands. Remembering what his mother had told him, James shut his mouth and pretended he knew what was going on. The book on Muggle music his mother had borrowed for him said that Muggles had some way of putting music onto a large vinyl disc to be replayed. While he had no idea how this was done or how to play the music, he wanted to own one of those discs.
"Hello, sir? Can you help me find some music?" he asked a boy a few years older than him sitting listlessly behind the counter. The clerk (Alek was the name James read on his nametag) looked up from his magazine to scowl at the boy. He sneered at the boy's fairly nice clothing and messy black hair that never seemed to lie down properly. It clearly contrasted the clerk's shock-blue, dyed hair and torn, pinned, and duct-taped clothing. He pushed his glasses farther up on his nose, waiting for a reply.
"What kind of music were you looking for, kid?" the clerk asked. James started slightly at the hostile tone of the question but went on all the same.
"I don't really know, what kind would you suggest?"
"Why don't you go look at the rack?" Alek asked sarcastically, obviously annoyed with being interrupted in his work.
"Oh, all right then," James thanked the clerk and walked toward the incessantly pulsating mass of scruffy teenagers grouped around the record shelves.
"Muggles," the clerk mutters under his breath.
As James fought his way through the biomass he became increasingly worried of being swallowed whole and never let out again. His apprehension must have been apparent as he soon felt a tug on his pant leg. He looked down into a face no older than his own, its owner having taken refuge under a table. The mousy-haired boy gestured him down to his clubhouse and smiled when James complied.
"It's wild out there, isn't it?" asked James's strange savior.
"Yeah, how did you get here?" Is it possible for someone to have gold eyes?
"Oh, I get here early. Alek lets me sit here and read," he held up a worn copy of some Muggle novel.
"Oh," was James's lame response.
"I'm Remus. What's your name?" The hazel-eyed boy caught himself staring through his glasses into Remus's strangely bright eyes, almost as if he thrived in the chaos surrounding his little bubble of peace.
"Oh, um, I'm James, It's, it's nice to meet you."
Remus laughed lightly. "I expect you're a little unnerved from the crowd, it's actually fairly light today. What are you doing here anyway?" Remus asked, cocking his head.
"Light? It's a jungle out there! And I was here to get a music disc, it seems kind of impossible now," James grimaced.
"Music disc? You mean a record?" James shrugged, "Okay, follow me."
Remus dragged James on a winding path through the jungle toward a clearer patch.
"Here's some records, do you care what kind you get or do you just want one?" Remus smirked knowingly.
"Um, what are some good ones?" James tried to sound like he knew what Remus was talking about. Remus laughed.
"Here," Remus pushed a cardboard sleeve into his hands, "this is Queen, they're great. If you can actually find out how to work it you'll like the music. The checkout's over there, you should probably get out of here before school gets out."
"Thanks!" James said to Remus's fleeting figure as he ducked back through the steadily multiplying biomass. He thought he saw his golden-eyed helper wave at him but there were too many people to be sure. After using the muggle money he had acquired from his mother he left the store, wondering if he would ever see the mousy-haired boy again.