Fading Stars

The moment James stepped out of the sleek black car, he knew he was in over his head.

The Black Mansion wasn’t just a house—it was a monument to wealth, power, and legacy. Towering white columns framed the massive entrance, and the golden glow from the arched windows spilled out onto the marble steps like something out of a dream. Through the towering glass doors, he caught glimpses of impossibly high ceilings, walls lined with centuries-old art, and glittering chandeliers that looked like they had been stolen straight from a royal palace.

“Holy shit,” Lily breathed beside him, adjusting the delicate emerald-green gown that clung to her figure. The silk shimmered under the mansion’s warm glow, its deep color making her red hair look even more striking. “James, this place is insane.”

James let out a low whistle, running a hand through his already messy hair. “I think ‘insane’ might be an understatement, Evans. I mean, look at that.”

He gestured toward the towering columns, the enormous chandeliers visible through the massive windows, the meticulously trimmed gardens lined with statues of figures that looked like they belonged in a museum. Every inch of the mansion exuded power, old money, and an elegance so effortless it was almost intimidating.

This was the Noble House of Black—the empire that ruled the fashion world.

 “Well, Evans,” he muttered to Lily, “this is definitely not like any party I’ve ever been to.”

Lily smirked. “James, the parties you go to have beer pong and sticky floors. This? This is a whole different universe.” And she wasn’t wrong. Everything about Blacks exuded effortless perfection. The kind of perfection that came with old money and ruthless ambition.

As they stepped into the grand entrance hall, James had to stop himself from staring like an idiot. The ceiling stretched impossibly high, every inch covered in intricate gold detailing that caught the light of the crystal chandelier hanging above them. The marble floors gleamed under their polished shoes, reflecting the soft flicker of candlelight from the towering candelabras. The air smelled of expensive perfume, aged champagne, and something James could only describe as money.

“Oh my,” Lily muttered under her breath, trying—and failing—not to look impressed. “James, I think the doorknobs in this place cost more than our apartment.”

James grinned. “Think they’d notice if I took one? Could probably pay off my student loans.”

Lily rolled her eyes, but he caught the slight smile tugging at her lips. Before she could respond, a new voice chimed in from behind them.

“If you’re planning to steal something, go for the champagne. Might as well enjoy the finer things before they kick us out.”

James turned to find a blonde woman standing just a few feet away, watching them with an amused expression. She wore a deep navy gown, the silky fabric flowing around her in effortless waves. Her makeup was subtle but striking, and she had the kind of confidence that made it seem like she belonged here, even if she probably didn’t.

She raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess—first time in a place like this?”

James smirked. “What gave it away? The stunned silence or the fact that we look like we’re mentally calculating the price of everything in the room?”

She laughed. “Bit of both.” She extended a hand. “Marlene McKinnon. Also wondering how the hell I ended up here.”

“James Potter,” he said, shaking her hand. “And this is Lily Evans.”

Lily nodded. “Nice to meet you. I assume you’re also trying not to look too impressed?”

Marlene huffed. “I gave up on that the moment I saw the bathrooms. The sinks are made of solid marble. Who needs a marble sink?”

James let out a laugh. “Rich people who have run out of things to spend money on.”

Marlene grinned. “Exactly. It’s like they’re showing off just because they can.”

James could already tell he liked her. She had the same air of sarcasm that he and Lily used as a coping mechanism whenever they were in situations way above their pay grade.

“So,” Marlene said, glancing around, “you guys nervous?”

Lily sighed. “Only every second since we got accepted into this competition.”

James hummed, glancing at the lavish surroundings once more. Chandeliers sparkled above them, and the guests already gathered in the ballroom were draped in designer gowns and suits that probably cost more than his entire flat. Everything about this place screamed wealth, legacy, power.

Marlene shrugged. “I’m choosing to see this whole thing as an adventure. Worst case scenario? We embarrass ourselves on national television.”

Before James could respond, a chime echoed through the hall, signaling the start of the evening. The grand doors to the ballroom swung open, revealing an extravagant space filled with glittering chandeliers, elegantly dressed guests, and waiters weaving through the crowd with trays of champagne. A soft waltz played in the background, setting the perfect atmosphere for a night that promised to be both thrilling and completely overwhelming.

James exhaled slowly. The competition hadn’t even started yet, but he already knew one thing: This was going to be unlike anything he had ever experienced.

The grand hall of the Black Mansion was nothing short of breathtaking. Massive chandeliers, dripping with thousands of crystals, cast a golden glow over the marble floors, reflecting in the tall, gilded mirrors that lined the walls. The room smelled of luxury—expensive perfume, aged champagne, and the faintest trace of polished wood and fresh-cut flowers.

James Potter stood near the edge of the crowd, his fingers loosely wrapped around the stem of a champagne flute, though he hadn’t taken a sip. He wasn’t much of a champagne guy—more of a beer in a crumpled can kind of guy—but this was the kind of place where drinking beer would get you thrown out before you could say cheers.

Beside him, Lily Evans looked every inch like she belonged in this world. Her emerald-green gown clung to her in all the right places, and her auburn hair was swept into an elegant updo, a few loose curls framing her face. But despite her effortless beauty, James could see the tension in the way she kept shifting her weight from foot to foot, the way her fingers traced the rim of her own untouched glass.

Around them, contestants whispered among themselves. Some—mostly the ones who had already worked high-end campaigns—stood with confidence, their polished smiles practiced, their posture perfect. Others, like James and Lily, were doing their best to blend in, to look like they belonged, despite the gnawing feeling that they might not.

And then, the room fell silent.

Regulus Black had arrived.

He stood at the top of the grand staircase, effortlessly commanding the attention of every person in the room. Dressed in a midnight-black suit, tailored to perfection, he was every inch the heir to the Noble House of Black—elegant, untouchable. But it wasn’t just his appearance that held the room captive—it was him.

With measured grace, he descended the stairs. He didn’t rush. He didn’t need to. Every pair of eyes in the room was already fixed on him, as if they had no choice but to watch. At the foot of the staircase, a waiter offered him a crystal glass of champagne, which he accepted with a slight nod. Then, he turned to face them.

"Welcome."

His voice was smooth, controlled, carrying through the vast hall without the need to be raised.

"To those of you standing here tonight, congratulations. You are among the very few who have been given the opportunity to be a part of something… extraordinary."

James swallowed as Regulus’s gaze swept over the crowd. When those silver eyes passed over him, he felt an involuntary chill run down his spine. There was something about the way Regulus looked at people, like he was dissecting them, weighing their worth, determining if they were worth his time.

"This is not just a competition," Regulus continued. "This is the chance to prove that you belong. The Noble House of Black has never before opened its doors in this way. Our world does not welcome outsiders. It does not make room for those who hesitate, for those who lack the ambition to carve their place into it."

He paused, taking a sip of his champagne, as if to let the weight of his words settle over them.

"Over the coming weeks, you will be tested. You will be pushed further than you have ever been before—physically, mentally, emotionally. Some of you will rise to the challenge. Most of you will fail."

A ripple of unease passed through the crowd. James glanced at Lily, who was pressing her lips together, her grip tightening around her glass.

"The Noble House of Black does not accept mediocrity. By the end of this, only those who have proved themselves worthy will remain."

And then, a slow, almost imperceptible smile ghosted across Regulus’s lips.

"Good luck."

Silence. A heavy, charged silence.

Then, as if someone had flipped a switch, the spell broke. Conversations resumed—quieter now, more calculated. The music swelled again, and waiters moved seamlessly through the crowd, offering hors d'oeuvres and refilling glasses. But the air had changed. The weight of what they had signed up for had settled over them, tangible and unshakable.

James exhaled slowly, looking over at Lily.

"Well," she muttered, her voice low. "That was only mildly terrifying."

James huffed out a breathless laugh. "Right? If that was the welcome speech, I can’t wait to see what fresh hell the first challenge is gonna be."

Lily giggled, but then her expression grew more serious. She looked around the room, at the faces of their competition—some already forming alliances, others sizing each other up like predators stalking prey.

"This is real, isn’t it?" she murmured. "We’re really here."

James nodded, his own stomach twisting with something between excitement and nerves. "Yeah. We are."

And as he glanced back toward the grand staircase, where Regulus Black had disappeared into the crowd, he had the distinct feeling that the games had only just begun.

The tension in the room didn’t disappear immediately after Regulus’s speech, but it did start to loosen, bit by bit. The music, an elegant blend of classical and modern beats, pulsed softly through the hall, filling the silence left in the wake of his words. The hum of conversation gradually returned, this time laced with cautious excitement rather than pure intimidation.

James exhaled, finally taking a sip of his champagne. He wasn’t sure if he liked it, but it felt like the kind of night where he should at least pretend to. Beside him, Lily was still watching the room with sharp eyes, taking in the clusters of contestants already forming. Some were networking, others subtly measuring up their competition.

"So," James said, shifting closer to her. "On a scale from ‘mild nerves’ to ‘full-blown panic attack,’ how are we feeling?"

Lily gave him a dry look, swirling the champagne in her glass. "Somewhere around ‘existential crisis in an overpriced dress.’ You?"

James chuckled. "‘Fake confidence with a side of imposter syndrome.’"

"Glad we’re on the same page."

Marlene McKinnon, who had been standing with them for most of the night, scoffed. "Oh, please. You two are acting like we’re trapped in a lion’s den. This is a dream, people."

James smirked. "Oh, don’t worry, McKinnon. The existential dread just makes it more fun."

Marlene smirked, swirling the champagne in her glass. “Alright, I’ll give you that. But come on, tell me you aren’t the least bit excited. This is the biggest stage any of us will ever stand on.”

"Oh, I’m excited," James admitted. "I just have a healthy appreciation for how completely terrifying this all is." And he was. The last few weeks and probably also the next month will definitely be the most exciting time in his whole life.

Before Marlene or Lily could respond, another voice cut through their conversation—smooth, laced with amusement, and just the right amount of arrogance.

"And here I thought this party was going to be painfully dull."

James turned to see a guy stepping into their circle, holding his drink like he’d already been here for hours. He had sharp, aristocratic features, dark hair streaked with a bold green, and multiple piercings that gleamed under the chandelier lights. His suit, though clearly designer, was carelessly worn—the top buttons undone like he couldn’t be bothered to follow the dress code properly.

James exchanged a glance with Lily and Marlene. None of them recognized him. But he looked confident, self-assured—like he belonged here, even though he didn’t quite match the typical polished elegance of the room.

"I’m sorry, should we know you?" Marlene asked, arching a brow.

The guy smirked. "Probably. But I’ll help you out—Barty Crouch Jr."

James nearly choked on his drink. "Wait—Crouch? Like, as in—"

"The very same," Barty confirmed, taking a slow sip of his champagne.

Lily’s eyes widened slightly. "Your father is—"

"Yes, yes, esteemed politician, man of influence, blah blah blah," Barty interrupted, waving a hand. "But I am much more interesting."

James studied him for a second, curiosity piqued. "Huh. Didn’t expect to see someone like you here."

"Oh?" Barty tilted his head, intrigued. "And what exactly did you expect?"

"I don’t know. But definitely not the son of a big politican.”

Barty grinned. "Trust me. If I wanted to follow my father’s path, I’d be at some stiff diplomatic gala right now, pretending to care about tax policies. But I’m here instead."

Marlene rolled her eyes, swirling her drink. "Are you actually here to win, or just to piss off your father?"

Barty’s green-streaked hair caught the light as he tilted his head back, considering. Then he smirked. "Can’t it be both?"

Lily raised an eyebrow. "You do realize this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, right? Not just some rebellion stunt?"

Barty took a slow sip of his drink before answering. "Oh, I realize. Trust me. But tell me, Red—don’t you ever get bored of always following the rules?"

Marlene lifted her glass. "Well, welcome to the madness, Crouch."

"Oh, don’t worry." Barty clinked his glass against hers. "I fully intend to make it even madder."

James exchanged a glance with Lily before shaking his head and lifting his own drink.

"To surviving this?" he offered.

"To conquering it," Marlene corrected.

Barty grinned. "And looking damn good while doing it."

Lily sighed but lifted her glass anyway.

And as their glasses met, James had the strangest feeling that, whether they liked it or not, this group was going to be at the center of whatever chaos came next.

The Black Mansion was grand, intimidating, and filled with an eerie kind of elegance. It was the kind of place that felt like it belonged in a history book, not a reality show. Yet, here they were—the newest contestants of The Elite Model Casting, fresh off the grand opening event, still buzzing with excitement and nerves.

James had barely set foot in his new room before Marlene had banged on his door, insisting that everyone was gathering in the common lounge to "actually get to know each other, without all the cameras and fake pleasantries."

He wasn’t about to say no to that.

The right wing of the mansion had been designated for the contestants, spanning two floors. Most had been assigned shared rooms, but by some stroke of luck, James had landed a single. Marlene, on the other hand, was stuck with Lily—though judging by the way the two had been glued to each other all evening, neither seemed to mind.

Now, sprawled across the plush couches of the communal lounge, the group had settled into something that almost felt normal. A few bottles of expensive-looking wine had been swiped from the dining hall—Marlene’s doing, naturally—and someone had found a deck of cards, though no one had actually started playing yet.

James took a sip from his glass, relishing the burn in his throat. He glanced around at the others, a mix of familiar and unfamiliar faces.

Frank Longbottom and Alice Fortescue sat close together, laughing at something Gideon and Fabian Prewett—identical twins with an almost unsettling level of synchronized movements—were saying. Peter Pettigrew nursed his drink quietly, eyes darting between conversations as if trying to find an opening. Mary MacDonald sat cross-legged on the floor, already tipsy, swaying slightly as she hummed along to the low music playing from someone’s phone.

But it was Barty Crouch Jr. who had unexpectedly captured James’ attention tonight.

Reclining lazily on the couch across from him, Barty held his wine glass between two fingers, spinning it absentmindedly. His sharp brown eyes flickered between the group with amusement, like he was mentally cataloging their personalities for future use. James had pegged him as arrogant at first, but the more he listened, the more he realized Barty was funny. In a dry, sarcastic, slightly unhinged kind of way.

“You’re awfully quiet, Potter,” Barty drawled, interrupting James’ thoughts. “Not used to being in a room where you’re not the center of attention?”

James scoffed, grinning. “Please. I’m just letting you all catch up before I inevitably become your favorite person here.”

Marlene snorted. “Bold assumption.”

Lily, curled up beside her with a glass of wine balanced on her knee, smirked. “I’ll give him a week.”

“Oh, come on, at least two,” James shot back, feigning offense.

Barty smirked, tilting his head in mock consideration. “Hmm. I say we make it interesting. If by the end of the week, you aren’t everyone’s favorite, you owe me a bottle of the fancy wine.”

James raised a brow. “And if I am?”

Barty’s smirk widened. “Then I’ll admit—publicly—that you might be slightly charming.”

James grinned. “Deal.”

Lily rolled her eyes, sipping her drink. “This is the dumbest bet I’ve ever heard.”

Marlene clinked her glass against Lily’s. “And yet, somehow, I’m invested.”

James laughed, already feeling like he belonged. He hadn’t expected to find friends so quickly, but something about this group felt right. Maybe it was the shared nerves, the shared ambitions, or just the ridiculousness of their situation.

Whatever it was, he liked it.

James leaned back against the plush sofa, his drink resting loosely in his hand as the conversation drifted into more personal territory. The initial excitement of being in the Black Mansion, of being part of something so grand, had settled into a comfortable buzz among them. The fire crackled warmly, casting flickering shadows on the walls, and James found himself actually enjoying the company around him.

“So, what do you all do when you're not trying to become the next big thing in fashion?” Marlene asked, stretching her legs out in front of her. Her Scottish accent was lilting, warm, making the question feel less like an interrogation and more like a genuine attempt to know them all better.

Barty let out a small chuckle. “Mostly make bad decisions, if I’m being honest.” He took a sip from his glass, his smirk widening when Marlene rolled her eyes.

Lily shifted beside her, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear. “I actually studied literature before this,” she admitted. "Modeling wasn’t really my plan, but somehow, I ended up here.”

Marlene  turned his attention to her, intrigued. “Literature? That’s a bit different from all of this.” She gestured vaguely around the lavish room.

Lily laughed softly. “Tell me about it. But my sister—Petunia—she always said I’d never make it in anything. So, I suppose proving her wrong was part of the motivation.”

Marlene made a disgusted noise. “Ugh, sisters can be the worst.”

Barty raised an eyebrow. “Not close, then?”

Lily sighed. “Not even remotely. She’s—how do I put this nicely—completely insufferable. She thinks all of this,” she gestured around the room just as Marlene had, “is shallow and ridiculous. She’s convinced herself she’s better than me because she chose a ‘real career.’”

“What does she do?” Barty asked, leaning forward with interest.

“She’s married to some awful guy named Vernon and works in an office, but she acts like she’s royalty,” Lily said dryly. “She’s always been like that—ever since we were kids. Nothing I did was ever good enough.”

James frowned slightly, watching the way Lily’s fingers curled around her glass just a little tighter. He never knew what it was like to have a family that didn’t support your choices. He thought of his parents, who had been over the moon about him being in the competition- another success to add to the Potter name.

“Well, if she thinks you’ll fail,” Marlene said firmly, “then you have to win, just to rub it in her face.”

Lily chuckled. “That’s the plan.”

Gideon and Fabian, who had been quietly listening, exchanged grins. “Nothing like a little spite to fuel ambition,” Fabian said.

James took another sip of his beer, letting the crisp bitterness settle on his tongue as he leaned back into the couch. His gaze drifted toward Marlene, who had comfortably propped her feet up on the edge of the coffee table, balancing her bottle on her knee like she had done this a thousand times before. There was something effortless about her, something self-assured. She carried herself like she knew exactly who she was and didn’t give a damn what anyone thought.

“Well, guess it’s my turn,” she said, running a hand through her golden curls. “I’m Marlene McKinnon, 22, professional mischief-maker, occasional Calvin Klein girl, and—oh yeah—I’m a lesbian.”

She said it like it was just another fact, as if it was as natural as stating her age or the color of her hair. James admired that. Confidence, real confidence, was rare to see. He’d met plenty of people who acted like they had it all figured out, but Marlene wasn’t acting. She just was.

Barty smirked, swirling his drink in his glass. “Figured. You kept checking out Lily earlier.”

Lily rolled her eyes, nudging Barty’s leg with her foot. “You are insufferable.”

Marlene, however, just grinned. “Lily’s stunning, but she’s not my type.” She shot her roommate a playful wink before leaning forward. “I’m actually in a relationship.”

James raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh yeah? Who’s the lucky girl?”

Marlene’s entire expression softened in an instant. “Dorcas Meadowes. We’ve been together for two years now.”

James had no idea who that was, but from the look on Marlene’s face, she was clearly something special.

“She’s not in the industry,” Marlene continued, probably reading the confusion on his face. “She’s studying law—wants to be a prosecutor. Brilliant as hell. Stubborn as hell. And somehow still has the patience to deal with me.”

James let out a low whistle. “Law? Damn. That’s impressive.”

“Right?” Marlene laughed, shaking her head fondly. “She’s always buried in her books, but she still makes time for me. She actually made me flashcards before one of my first big runway auditions because she knew I’d stress myself out memorizing designer bios.”

Lily let out a soft “aww,” while Barty made a gagging noise.

James just smiled. “That’s real love, isn’t it?”

Marlene shrugged, but the affection in her eyes was impossible to miss. “She’s the best. My parents weren’t thrilled when I told them I wanted to model, but she? She never doubted me for a second.” She took another sip of her drink, the corners of her lips quirking up. “When I told her I got into this show, she just said, ‘You better win, babe. I’m not dating a loser.’”

James laughed at that, shaking his head. “I like her already.”

“She’d like you too,” Marlene said, pointing at him. “She’s got a thing for loud, overconfident types.”

James held a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Loud? Overconfident? I prefer the term ‘charismatic.’”

Marlene snorted. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Potter.”

James grinned, but deep down, something about the conversation stuck with him. The way Marlene spoke about love—with certainty, with ease—it was something he wasn’t sure he’d ever experienced. Having someone who believed in you unconditionally, who was always in your corner… that sounded nice.

Really nice.

Marlene turned to him, tilting her head. "What about you, Potter? Your parents cool with you doing this whole modeling thing?"

James took another sip of his drink before leaning forward, deciding to share a little about himself. "My parents have always been super supportive. My dad works in the pharmaceutical industry, and my mum volunteers at a children’s hospice. They’re both just... really great. Always told me to chase my dreams, no matter what. That’s why I’m here. Well, that and my backup plan—I’m studying media science, just in case."

"Wait, so modeling wasn’t just some random thing for you?" Barty asked, raising an eyebrow. "You actually planned for this?"

James grinned. "Yeah, kind of. My parents are originally from Brazil. Every summer as a kid, I’d visit my grandparents there. My grandma was a hobby designer—used to make the most beautiful clothes, and she was the first person who introduced me to the world of fashion. She’d take me to little markets, show me fabrics, let me watch as she worked on her designs. I think that’s when I fell in love with it all."

"That’s actually really sweet," Alice said, resting her chin on her hand. "It makes sense now, why you have such a passion for this."

James shrugged, but he couldn’t help the warmth that spread in his chest. "Yeah, I guess it’s always been in me. Just had to take the leap."

Marlene clinked her glass against his. "Well, here’s to taking the leap."

Gideon, who had been listening quietly, chuckled. "I think we’re all a little insane for getting into this business, but hey—if we make it, it’ll be worth it."

Barty raised his glass. "To being insane together."

They all clinked their glasses, laughter filling the room as the night carried on, solidifying the beginning of what felt like real friendships. They were all still strangers in many ways, all competing against each other, but here—right now—it didn’t feel like that.