Just taking the opportunity to flesh out some more, ah-hem, humorous backstory for the character in question. It should be fairly obvious by this point how the characters are, not like I am trying very hard to keep them a secret. Just planning on introducing them later. Again, I own nothing except the alterations to the backstory of certain characters; the OC's which will show up shortly (Which probably suck so badly, no one would want to use them anyway.) and the career choices of the various protagonists. Oh, and the Uluru school of magic. That's mine too. Actually, now that I think about it, I do own quite a bit…

He sped away, on the bike as the wind chafed his face. The bike was thrown into a hard left turn, the tires screaming as they were forced around a curve at higher speeds than even they had been designed for, leaving the smell of scorched rubber hanging in the air like a thick miasma. His mind drifted away from the back road he was flying over. His hands were on autopilot as he thought back to that long ago day where he had learned how to drive like this. That man had been one of the very few people who, to the best of his (admittedly) faulty memory, who had left him speechless, and, dare he say it, scared. Two other people had been in the student driver car with him, and one of them had been so scared she threw herself out of the car. It was of the very few memories about his previous section of his life he actually remembered.

Ffflllaaassshhhbbbaaaccckkk…

A rather young looking version of himself slid into the driver's seat in an old black car, which had a large sign that in white letters proclaimed 'Student Driver'. Two other people slid into the back, one each of a boy and a girl, while an extremely old looking man wearing an old newspaper boy cap forced his way into the shotgun seat.

He turned to look at the three before beginning to croak at them. "Good afternoon. I am Mr. Ecklestone, your driver's Ed instructor. This will be your first, and possibly last, excursion into the world of driving. It is immeasurably risky, much like gambling, or online dating. Now before we begin, I would like you all to close your eyes. Breathe deeply…" Everyone was eagerly following along with his commands. "And embrace your impending death." The eyes of every student in the car popped open and stared at the man with a sense of incredulity. He ignored them as he continued. "I have been teaching this course for over ten decades. Statistically, I should have died seventeen and a half times. With each new venture out onto the road I take my fate into my hands. I mean this figuratively of course, because this hand no longer has any feeling in it." He waved his floppy hand in the direction of the driver's face.

"Your odds of survival would be higher If you sat in a pool of crocodiles whilst playing Russian roulette. With that image in mind… If any of you now wish to exit the death machine at this time, no one will judge you. But if you are here to stay, let us see what new vehicular nightmares await us." By this point everyone was exchanging nervous glances with each other. Mr. Ecklestone surveyed the car before sighing raspingly. "So be it. Buckle up everyone." The seat belts were quickly fastened by all except the instructor who seemed to be struggling to move his seat belt with his rather feeble right hand. The girl in the back quickly assisted him and got a thank you from the instructor.

"Feels safe and secure doesn't it?" Lots of sage nodding from his audience. "IT'S AN ILLUSION." He barked. Everyone in the car jumped at the sudden increase in volume. "No amount of straps can save you from the horrors that await us. Put the car into gear, check the mirrors, and pray to whatever deities you may worship. If there are any atheists among us you may pray to science."

"Where should I go?"

The old man stared at him. "The choice is yours. But choose wisely. Or rest in the knowledge that you have killed us."

"What? But this is just a quiet country road! It looks so peaceful."

"Peaceful? It is about as peaceful as juggling bombs made out of knives!"

One of the people in the backseat had his brows creased in concentration. "How does that even work?"

Mr. Ecklestone flailed his hands about wildly. "Country roads, as John Denver once said, take you home."

"What's wrong with that? The girl asked.

"Your eternal home!" The instructor roared. "Observe how oncoming cars pass by, mere inches from our own! Blind monkeys could have engineered a safer way to travel!"

"Is it really that-"

"Dangerous? Here is a math problem for you! Two cars are traveling at one another at sixty five miles an hour! If X is the safety rating of a standard mid-size car, what is the total number of people who are about to die? Answer? All of them!"

He glanced around and peered out the windshield. "Ah. Here we encounter our first obstacle. The left turn off a country road. This foolish man has practically offered the grim reaper a seat in our car." The driver looked back at Mr. Ecklestone.

"But it's just a left turn-"

"Just a left turn? Just a left turn? Would you say it is just a bullet, to the brain? Intersections are the devil's playground, and left turns are his swing set. Everyone assume crash positions!" He bent over at the waist, showing remarkable flexibility for an old man, huddling beneath the dashboard. The two occupants of the backseat followed his example, and the driver started looking around wildly.

"What do I do?" Mr. Ecklestone popped his head up to fix him with a glare for a moment.

"Drive man!" He ducked back down and the driver twisted the wheel, while screwing his eyes shut. He opened them just in time to swerve back into the proper lane to avoid a car accident. Mr. Ecklestone slowly raised his head up again. "You are all on borrowed time." He said solemnly.

The younger version of himself was beginning to hyperventilate in the driver's seat. "I-I-I'm not sure I can do this anymore."

"None of us can. Our human frames were not designed to travel at these velocities. It's an insult to nature. Much like indoor plumbing, or Taco Bell."

"How do we stop?"

"We can't. These roads can go on forever, much like an Oscar ceremony. We have no choice. It seems like we are already speedily heading towards our next dance with death. A deer crossing." The girl in the backseat frowned.

"What's wrong with a deer crossing?"

"Why don't you ask me after Bambi comes hurtling through the windshield at forty-five miles an hour, and the interior of our car looks like a sea of carnage and antlers! Then maybe you will appreciate the perils of a deer crossing!" The occupants of the car frowned as his words sank in. "DEER!" Mr. Ecklestone screeched.

The driver threw the car into a skid as he desperately looked for the deer. "Where is it?"

"Sorry, just a squirrel. Constant vigilance! Speed up boy! You are going to get us hit from behind!" The car speeded up on his command before slowing to a halt a few moments later. The girl in the backseat frowned.

"Why are we stopping?"

Mr. Ecklestone slumped back to his seat. "Its five 'o clock." Everyone looked at him questioningly. "We have unwittingly wandered into rush hour traffic. We are safe." Sighs of relief sounded from around the car. "I would rather we died."

End ffflllaaassshhhbbbaaaccckkk

He shook his head, dismissing the stream of thought. That was irrelevant. Right now, he needed action, something to get the blood pumping. He could do almost whatever he wanted without risk, as it was not like he could die for long, if at all. He threw the bike into another hard turn. He saw a ramp leading up to a canyon and his eyes lit up. He forced the bike to go even faster as he raced up the ramp and hurtled into empty space. He let out a yell of pure adrenaline, now this was what life was supposed to be like. He absently noticed that he was not going to make it and shrugged. He needed to brush up on how to reconstruct a bike anyway.

As he started to fall he heard the roar of massive engines as something shot towards him. He barely glimpsed it out of the corner of his eyes before he crashed into something and everything went black.

When he woke up, he groaned, forcing his nose back into place, wincing at the pain the action required, before surveying his surroundings. He pooped his shoulder back into its socket and felt his face, noting that the cuts were already almost gone. A pile of smoking and ruined machinery lay on the floor a few feet away from him. Several chairs appeared bolted to the floor near the front. He realized where he was and groaned as he realized who must be here. The front chair in front of the controls rotated around to show a girl with multicolored hair, glaring at him with a frightening expression.

"Mind telling me what the hell that was?" She demanded angrily. He attempted to dodge the question by distracting her.

"Language." She snorted.

"Coming from you, that's rich. I am going to ask again. Why did I need to crash you through the side of the plane? Do you have a death wish?" Her voice got higher and more hysterical as she went on.

He sighed and got up and walked over to her, plopping down in a nearby chair. "You know that would not have killed me. It was not my original idea to fall; I was trying to leap the canyon on my bike." He ran a hand through his perpetually mussed up hair. He frowned as he realized something. "How did you even know I had left? You listened in on me, didn't you?"

She had the grace to flush a little in embarrassment. "Yes. I was partway down the hall."

"So you heard everything?" He got a nod in response from her. He leaned back in the chair and sighed, before burying his face in his hands. "Now what are we going to do?" He asked, to no one in particular. "I did not have a plan, I was just going to try and roam for a while. With you, that option goes out the window. I am assuming you left as well?" The girl nodded. "Well, I got nothing. Any ideas?"

She shrugged. "We could just go around and see famous places I suppose, though I don't think you would be too fond of that choice for some reason." He shuddered his agreement. He had nothing against a great view; it was just too boring for him. "We could just play it by ear I guess." They sat in thought for a few minutes as autopilot flew the plane for them. She snapped her fingers. "I have heard rumors of a school for special people in Australia though."

He looked at her oddly. "After the last school we were at? And in Australia?"

"It was not that bad, I seemed to recall you enjoyed it for a while. Besides, we can always leave if it doesn't suit our fancy." The brunette stated matter-of-factly.

He rolled one shoulder. "Not like we have any better ideas." He grumbled. "Know where it is?"

"According to what I heard, the nearest town is Alice Springs. Apparently you have to pass a trial to even get to the school. Between the two of us, I think we could handle it just fine."

He shook his head, still having a hard time getting it through his head that he was going to the other side of the world. "Alice Springs it is." he murmured as he punched the coordinates into the system before strapping himself down as the plane shot off.

(line break)

Our resident formerly British wizard disembarked from the jumbo jet that had carried him from Canada, to Panama City, then on to Rio de Janeiro, then a really long flight to Sydney, before transferring planes again and finally landing at Alice Springs. He had taken the time out to briefly explore all the cities he had layovers in, using the time to satisfy his curiosity. What he saw astounded him. Why wizards could ever consider themselves superior to muggles was beyond him. He had seen wonders that he could not even describe. He had had much more exposure to muggles than most wizards, what with his abusive childhood and all, but he had apparently not even scratched the surface of what muggles were capable of. It was time like this when he completely sympathized with Mr. Weasley's career choice.

He was interrupted from his musings by his first impression of the Outback. Heat. Lots and lots of heat. England was a nation that always had cool and rainy weather, so this temperature was not something he was used to. He was just not dressed for the weather. Gringotts had given him a small rectangle of plastic, which muggles called a credit card. Apparently it would automatically deduct the cost of whatever he bought from his vaults.

His first order of business was getting himself some new clothes. He went into the first clothing store that he saw. He exited about an hour later, decked out in new duds. A glance at a nearby newspaper confirmed that he had three days before the trial to see who was good enough to attend the school would begin. He purchased the newspaper and flicked through it, reading it as he walked down the street. He peeked up every now and then to see where he was going, and noticed the tell-tale signs of magical concealment. The easiest one to notice was how his eyes seemed to slide over a seemingly innocuous piece of wall. He tapped his wand on the wall, and the bricks seemed to fold away. Harry rolled his eyes. Of course there would be something to supply the magicals living relatively nearby.

He quickly glanced up and down the street before he performed a cartoon era double take, then his eyes narrowed. Halfway down the alley was a shop. Why this particular one? The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. What? That shop was back in Diagon, in London. He shrugged. He might need a new wand anyway. He had not grown up in the magical world, and had no idea if, for instance, wands needed maintenance.

He entered the shop and a small bell tinkled above his heads. Apparently some wizards had adapted a few things from the muggles. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair, which Harry sat down in to wait. A soft voice drifted out of the back of the shop. "Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry jumped. He had known Ollivander enjoyed scaring people, and had prepared himself, but the man could move as quietly as a cat. Ollivander's eyes narrowed as he gazed at the young man. "Well, well, if it isn't Mr. Potter. Or should I say, Mr. LeBeau?"

"How do you know that?" Harry snapped, more than a little surprised and paranoid.

"The same way Albus always knows who is at his office door." Ollivander left it at that, and shuffled closer. "What are you doing here? Last I heard, you were in London and your wand was working just fine."

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand, showing it to the old man. "It still is working fine, I think. I just wanted to know if there is anything maintenance wise I have to do to it to keep it in tiptop shape." Ollivander shook his head.

"Unless you get hit with a curse that disables or destroys your wand in some way, you should be fine."

"How are you here? You have a shop in London, how are you in two places at once?"

Ollivander chuckled and did not answer the question. "Would you like another wand Mr. LeBeau? It is always a good idea to have a backup." Harry's eyes narrowed at the evasion but did not press.

"Sure." He said shortly. He went through the song and dance of trying out wands with Harry. This time, as Ollivander knew what to look for, he found a matching wand much faster.

"12 inches, willow with a core of… Well, that's my little secret. Give it a wave." Harry did so, and a stream of hot pink and red light streamed out of the end. "I believe we have found a match."

Harry fumbled in his pocket. "How much is it?" he asked.

Ollivander peered at him with his lamp like eyes. "Nothing. Consider it repayment for my part of the debt we owe you and your parents for fifteen years of peace. If you ever need help, Mr. LeBeau, you know where to find it." He shuffled towards the back of the store, before pausing and calling back over his shoulder with a definite tone of amusement "Nice hot pink spell Mr. Potter." He continued on his way, snickering at the outraged yelp.

"It's not pink! It's just… Really, really light red."

"Yes. We have a word for that." Ollivander said in a droll tone. "It's called pink." He left before Harry could think of a suitable retort. Harry left, exiting back onto the street and shaking his head. He didn't think it was possible to get the last word in with him.

A light growl was heard, and he realized it was coming from his stomach. Apparently his body was still on London time. Not that he cared. He had money to spare anyway. He entered what was apparently the equivalent of the leaky cauldron or the hogshead, ordering his meal before taking a seat at the back of the building, his back against a wall. It was always a good idea to sit were no one could sneak up on you. Moody would have been proud. He busied himself with his meal, eyes constantly roaming, scanning all the patrons for any who might pose a threat. With Slytherins and Death Eaters running around, he had been quickly forced to learn to look for danger. He didn't see any. At least not until a pair of teens, one female and one male, about his age slid into the two seats on the other side of the table.

"Hiya!" One of them said. Harry instantly had his holly wand out, pointing in their direction. The boy carefully reached out with one finger and moved the tip away from him. "Cool it man." He said calmly. "We just came to talk."

"Who are you?" Harry asked, quickly double checking to make sure they had no back up.

"You can call me Jasper, Jasper le Faye. Her-" he gestured. "Call her Carmen. Or-she-who's-last-name-must-not-be-spoken." Harry snorted.

"I know someone like that, except it's her first name that must be omitted. What do you want?" He asked, not lowering his guard.

This time it was the girl who spoke. "You stick out like a sore thumb. It's obvious you don't come from around here. Therefore, you are here to either visit someone you know, which I doubt, as you are sitting alone. Or you are here for the Uluru trial. Am I correct?"

"You are." He nodded, slowly starting to relax.

"Was wondering if you would like to team up, as you can have a group up to 6. You look like you know which end of a wand is which, and I noticed you examining everyone in here when you arrived. You only learn to do that after you have gotten into a fight or two. In the interest of full disclosure, I am an elf." He tapped his ears, showing the stereotypical pointy ears. "And she is… that is for her to tell you." He concluded, catching the look she was shooting him. "You may see her in the newspaper." He added with a smirk on his face.

Harry arched an eyebrow and thumbed through the headline. One in particular caught his attention.

World-famous thief to retire after saving life.

The world famous cat thief Carmen has decided to retire from her occupation. She was notorious for her outside the box and unorthodox thefts. She had never been caught. She intervened during the attempted assignation of a high ranking member of the UN, the king of Wakanda. She has been granted a full pardon for her crimes. More information can be found on page 4…

There was more, but that was the gist of it. The picture shown exactly matched the person sitting across from him. "Huh." Harry said loquaciously. "Interesting."

"So are you in?" Jasper asked him.

Harry pondered this for a moment. To be sure, he could use some allies here. But after the last time he had worked with others fresh in his mind, he began to doubt himself. He knew his own limits, but he had no idea about the others. And that could be problematic in a tough situation. He slowly shook his head. "No. I think it better if I work alone. I have no problem hanging out with you and exchanging tips, I just think this is something I need to do on my own." They both looked disappointed by that before Jasper shrugged.

"Oh well. At least we will know someone else there." Harry cocked an eyebrow.

"Oh? We haven't even started yet. How do you know we are going to make it?"

Carmen laughed lightly. "Please. I know we are going to make it, but the wildcard here is you. Either you are going to blow by everything, or you aren't going to make it close at all. That's just the kind of person that you are."

Harry nodded, agreeing with that analysis of him. "Sounds about right."

"Well, it was nice to meet you. What's your name?" Jasper asked, leaning forward and extending a hand.

Harry shook his hand, mentally debating with himself. They seemed nice enough, but one never knew. "My name is… Remy LeBeau." He said carefully, trying out each word as he said it.

"Nice to meet you Mr. LeBeau." Jasper said sardonically. "Perchance, is that not your real name?"

"Why would I give out my name to a pair of strangers who I just met?"

"Constant vigilance!" All three of them said together before laughing. "Apparently instructors teach that the world over. Well, it was nice to meet you. See you around." They both left, waving to him as he left. As they exited, Harry relaxed the grip he had on his willow wand under the table and smiled. One could never be too careful, after all.

(Line break)

A cloaked figure moved quickly down the middle of the Australian alley, making sure to let no one see his face. He was, for all intents and purposes, a fugitive. He could not afford to be seen and sent back. He took a quick glance through the window of a café, before his eyes widened and he forced his face back to an impassive mask. What was he doing here? For a moment, he debated about revealing himself before deciding against it. He knew what his reaction would be, but he did not wish to attract any attention. Maybe later, when he was not surrounded by so many people, would be a better time to chat.

A/N Most of the content of the flashback came from Studio C, not me. That episode was the one I enjoyed the most, and it just happened to fit. I recommend you check it out.