1 p.m.

This is the (finally) threaded out Speed Racer plot. I am leaving this open for anyone else who wants to jump in that hadn't signed up on the thread. As if right now I have:

Racers: 1:3 Erin Harper (5), 1:5 Edmund Klint (7), 2:7 Fir "Captain Awesome" Cuween (7), 1:7 Quinn "Golddust" McAvoy (7), 1:7 Antony Dervish (3) [NPC], 1:14 Keegan Kearney (1), 1:14 Mairead "Tiny Terror" ó Fearghail (1),

*Odds are based on Fir's decisions for the booking and do not reflect or intend to godmod the actual skills of the character. Erin and Edmund are highest because they play Quidditch. Mairead and Keegan are first years. Also using what I can remember of making odds- pretty sure it doesn't have to add up to 1. >.>

*If you'd like to be a racer, shoot me a PM and I'll squeeze you in. If you'd like a super awesome racer nickname, let me know, too.

*Of course all spectators are welcome, too ^_^

Bookie: Sophie Flickwick
Snack/Drink Vendor: Adelia Iris Delacroix
'Excitement' Vendor: Selling Decoy Detonators, Instant Darkness Powder, Portable Swamps, Wildfire Whiz-Bangs, and other distracting products for spectators and racers to use on the race track. NPC- PM me if your character would like to fill this postion
Checkered Flag Starter Girl: Sophie Flickwick

NOTE: If something doesn't make sense, let me know in the Speed Racer thread and I'll fix/clarify it.

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Fir had to say, of all his genius plots over his six and a half years at Hogwarts, this had got to take the cake for the best one ever. It also had to be the one that involved the most work and the most use of all his networks and resources. It had taken a lot of work setting up the track. Thank goodness the Room of Requirement was well, the Room of Requirement.

The track took up most of the space. It was marked with bright paint lines twisted around the floor, walls and ceiling. Along the length of the track were a dozen golden rings hovering in midair. These were for the racers to grab and a prize would be given to the racer who grabbed the most rings in addition to the fastest race.

Fir of course, intended to make the biggest pot. This was, after all, all about him. And a few other friends and co-cooperators. But mostly about him. Because even if he got beaten by the first years, he was profiting. Not like he was going to of course. He was Fir after all. The only reason he didn't list himself as favored to win was to keep things interesting.

He also wanted to make sure everyone knew who was the mastermind they should thank for this. Hence his sanzzy and showy, but oh-so-professional outfit. He even got a top hat. Although, he really wasn't comfortable with mussing up his usual awesome hairstyle, so instead he had enchanted the top hat to hover slightly above the highest peak of his hair spikes. It was the best of both worlds.

Strutting around the room, Fir made sure everything was in place: the bleachers that circled the track (and in come cases went underneath it), the stalls, the shine of his boots, the  skirt of his flag girl. Ah. Everything was primed and ready.

Now all he needed was his racers. And the audience. A lot of the information of the where and when and other stuff had been spread through word of mouth, but he had been sure to send his racers some letters in the morning post with a map to the room and all the details at breakfast yesterday morning- the ink showing up only when the password was spoken "For that natural, windswept look." From there, Fir was hoping all her had to do was sit back and, well race. But then, sit back and enjoy the profits and prestige.

Mairead had been one of those that had relied on word of mouth.  Notes, letters - really, anything involving written words wasn't the best way to get important information across to her.  She usually did her best to avoid any activities that involved reading. 

Even if information hadn't been spread by word of mouth and Mairead had been forced to read for information, she would have done so.  She wouldn't voluntarily miss this activity for anything.  This was her chance to show off - to show she had learned something from Grace.  She had an opportunity to not only bolster her reputation around upper years but to prove that she could fly Seeker for the Gryffindor team her second year.  This could be her big break. 

Mairead hurried down the corridor, clutching the broom Grace had given her - the broom she'd affectionately named Eimar.  She felt excited and accomplished when she watched the door materialize in the wall and pushed her way through. 

"How much's the fee?" She asked bluntly as she hurried up to the ... she wasn't quite sure if it was a guy or a girl, actually.  The organizer.  She still had a fair bit of cash left over from the holidays.  Panhandling in Hogsmeade around the holidays had proven more lucrative than she'd expected with a hefty contribution having come from Maggie.  But, she was still far from rich.  "I can put other stuff up if it's not enough." 

"Name's Mairead," she offered as a tag on factoid, extending a small hand for a firm, business-like handshake.  "And, I don't want no one going easy on me cuz I'm a first year.  Or a girl.  It'll be much more satisfying to beat everyone if we play fair.

Outfit

Quinn had been involved from the start. When Fir had told his idea to her the other week, she'd been ridiculously keen and excited. Breaking school rules. After hours shenanigans. Broomstick racing. Cheering fans. Raucous after-parties. What else could one possibly need? And so, with a gallon of confidence and knowing that she would never be the frontrunner, Quinn grabbed her sunglasses and her broom and headed towards the location Fir had set for all would-be racers.

She'd told most of her friends about it, and how she would be participating. None were surprised at Quinn's latest venture, and things were going smoothly. That was until Quinn found out that Sophie had a role in the organisation - it could be detrimental to Quinn's standings in the competition. But blah, it was a minor, and everything would still be fan-bloody-tastic.

Heading to the Room of Requirement with that certain 'Quinnesque' swagger, the blonde quickly gained access, holding her broom loosely as it dragged across the floor behind her. It was a decent Nimbus 2001, and Quinn could fly it well, but she was ridiculously reckless. Upon trying out for Quidditch a few years ago, the Hogwarts staff had intervened. Letting McAvoy on a Quidditch pitch would be like letting a Hungarian Horntail out in Hogsmeade. Fiery, and more than likely fatal.
"Honey, I'm home," she called out to Fir and clenched her teeth into a wide, sparkly smile. "I cannot wait to get this race kicked off mate."

He ambled through the hallways at a much faster pace than his norm, his shrunken broom burning a hole in his pocket and his mind intent on only one thing. He carefully followed all the instructions Fir had given him, turning down this corridor and then that until he finally reached a pair of doors Erin definitely hadn’t ever seen before.

Well, what do you know, he thought as he slipped in. Fir found the room after all. His gaze was immediately drawn to the track above his head and for a minute he was too busy tracing its path to remember to unshrink his broom. One would have to expect a room so mysterious it was nearly mythological to be impressive... and it definitely was. Erin could practically feel the answering burn in his blood, born of adrenaline and excitement and a fiercely competitive streak.

The twists and turns would be easy, as would the rings floating in air that he assumed were for the grabbing - he had a Seeker's advantage for that. It was only the speed that he'd have to worry about, his broom not being exactly top of the line, but it would serve. Erin was confident. He'd been looking forward to this all week.

At the sight of Cuween - or more specifically, the hat enchanted to float above Cuween's precious hair - Erin broke into a grin.

"Cheers, Fir," he said, wandering over. "It looks real nice."

A tiny cloaked figure skirted through the shadows, footsteps muffled by lack of shoes and face hidden from view. After almost a month of feeling like the most dreadful wreck of a person the little sprite was stepping out of the Lion’s Den and into the night. That’s right, Sophie Flickwick was back to breaking rules, and this was a doozy compared to anything else she’d ever gotten up to on Hogwarts’ grounds. Illegal broom racing, being a bookie, what was she thinking?! Well, she was thinking Fir was pretty cute for one thing, and also that she was good with numbers and waving a flag wasn’t hard. If there were going to try not to get caught the seventh year needed as few people actually on the inside as possible. Fewer worker bees fewer people to accidentally buzz to Snark. Sophie, for herself, was just ready to have some damn fun.

Well, have some fun and impress her boy… or any boy for that matter. That was always the answer when life got hard, find a new boy to crush on. It was a welcome distraction from in-fighting and studying. Which was why the tiny Lioness was almost unrecognizable as herself. Gone were the jeans and house hoodie. In their stead was a very vah vah voom worthy polka dotted dress and a pair of heels that would break her neck before the night if she didn’t watch herself.

Of course it was all hidden at the moment under a heavy hooded winter cloak. Drawing the attention of boys = good, drawing the attention of prefects, housemates, or Professor Levartian = very, very, very, very bad. Pausing just outside the door she slipped on the white pumps and said a silent prayer to her guardian fashion angel (so, basically, Fergie) that she could at least make an entrance without falling ass over tea kettle. She forced out of her mind the fact Quinn would be there - resigning herself to just ignoring the other girl, she sauntered through the door (looking far more confident than she felt) and removing the heavy cloak with a flourish as she reached Fir’s side and gave him a fleeting peck on the cheek, “Alright who’s ready to hand over their money?”

Oh excellent! People were showing up just as promised and planned. He had a few racers still missing, but he had one of his best mates, his Quidditch golden buy and his underdog all prompt and ready to go, plus Sophie in....Well helloooooo girl!

"My goodness, Sophie you look STUNNING," Fir said, happily returning Sophie's cheek peck. "You are just in time."

Still beaming, he turned his attention back to his stars of the day. Lesser shining stars than himself of course, but still stars in their own right.

"Three sickles, oh Tiny Terror," Fir told Mairead happily. "And you have my word that no one will go easy on you. In fact, there's a nice little booth here where audience members can help make the game more challenging."

Yeah...fair. The little ones were adorably cute weren't they?

"And Quinn my darling your outfit looks almost as great as mine. You will be impossible to miss on the track I have no doubt," Fir grinned at his Gryffindor yearmate. "And ERIN! So glad you made it. You like the track, yes? Took my AGES, but I think it came out wonderful don't you?"

He glanced at the door. A few more spectators had come in bu so far no Addie and no other racers. Tsk, tsk. Didn't they know that it was only Fir that got to be fashionably late?

"Now, while we're waiting for your-slash-our competitors, do any of you have any questions about how all this is going down or desire some insider know-how as a reward for being on time, hmmm?"

Other students started to arrive.  As far as the first year Gryffindor could tell, they were all upper years.  But, that fact wasn't going to intimidate her.  Nor was she going to let their fancy looking brooms intimidate her, either.  The broom she got from Grace was, certainly, better than the school brooms but she didn't know how it measured up to the other ones.  Either way, she was ready to take this challenge on. 

She grinned at the raggedy haired girl, the blond boy and the short girl as they arrived, still grasping her broom eagerly. 

The pint-sized Gryffindor nodded and fished in her pocket for a trio of silver coins.  "Good," she answered promptly, taking the nickname in stride as she held out the coins.  She looked over at the booth and considered the audience before looking back.  "Cool," she agreed. 

"I don't need it, but if yer offerin' some advice, I won't pass it up."  Mairead didn't want them thinking she needed the help but one had to be a complete fool to pass up information that might give the early birds an edge.