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“Ignatia Shafiq?” The boy—man—asked. “By any chance related to the Shafiqs?”
She frowned. “Um - I guess - I mean, how common is Shafiq?”
“No no, I mean, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight?”
“What's that?”
He gaped at her. “How do you not know? Aren't you a witch!” His last sentence was rhetorical.
“I am.”
He looked at her suspiciously. “Were your parents… Muggles ?”
He said the word like it was a curse word.
“No,” Ignatia said patiently. “I'm from Egypt, remember? I went to Uagadou, not Hogwarts. And, well, I don’t know. I’m an orphan.”
“Oh.” He relaxed, appeased. “Well, the Sacred Twenty-Eight are the pureblood families of Wizarding Britain. One of which is Shafiq, but they supposedly died out a long time ago. Another of which,” he puffed up proudly, “is me. The Malfoys. And,” now he scowled. “I should be the Head of the House of Black, since my mother was a Black, but she became a Malfoy, and the blood traitor Sirius named Harry Potter his heir.”
“Potter?” Ignatia asked. “How - if his last name is Potter-”
“His paternal grandmother was a Black,” he scowled. “Even though his mother was a filthy mudblood-”
Ignatia stared blankly at him.
“Come, let’s take the genealogy test,” he said, grabbing her arm.
“What’s the g-” she managed, before he Apparated them to Gringotts bank.
“-enealogy test?” Ignatia finished. “Where are we?”
“Gringotts bank,” he said briskly. “We’re going to see whether you are related to the Shafiqs.”
“And my brother? Can he take it to?” Ignatia asked, curious.
“Well, if you are a Shafiq, obviously he is too-”
“No, he's adopted,” Ignatia corrected him quickly. “We’re not actually sure how we met, but we know his name is Percival Fawley.”
“Interesting,” he said thoughtfully as they climbed the stone stairs.
“What? Another oh-so-sacred pure house of Wizarding Britain?”
“Yes, actually, but more importantly: another one that has disappeared from history and has a vault in Gringotts just waiting to be claimed.”
“Wow,” Ignatia said. “Wonderful.”
The pair approached the closest open booth; the fifth desk to the left. The goblin spared Ignatia a glance before turning to him.
“Good day, Mr. Malfoy,” he said in a tone that indicated quite the opposite. “What do you need?”
“A genealogy test for Ignatia,” he said, indicating the woman by his side.
The goblin turned back to his papers. “One moment.”
He slid off his chair and disappeared behind the stacks.
“What does Ignatia mean?” He asked after a few seconds of silence.
“Like a fire,” Ignatia said proudly. “Fits me.”
He smirked. “My name means dragon.”
Ignatia raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were named after the constellation. Also, you seemed more of a serpent person. You know, Slytherin and all that.”
Draco frowned, but didn't get to respond before the goblin returned with a bowl, a knife, and a piece of parchment.
“If you would please,” the goblin said with relish to Ignatia.
She grimaced but sliced her left palm with the knife and left the blood drip into the bowl. Draco took out his wand and muttered a quick Healing Charm. She nodded her thanks as the goblin dipped a quill in her blood.
“Your full name?” He asked.
“Ignatia Faolan Shafiq,” she said. The goblin carefully penned this at the top of the parchment. Immediately, swirls of scarlet ink ran down the page, forming letters.
“I was right!” Draco all but crowed. “You are a Shafiq!”
“The joy,” Ignatia said dryly.
But the test wasn't done yet.
“Pocumtuc tribe,” Ignatia asked, incredulous. “I have Native American roots?”
“Not only that, but your root in that tribe is from one Martha Steward,” Draco commented. “A Squib whose mother was none other than Isolt Sayre, founder of Ilvermorny, and whose father was William Sayre, descendant of the Morrigan.”
“The Morrigan?” Ignatia questioned.
“Famous Irish witch,” Draco explained offhandedly. “She was an Animagus, too.”
And still the chart wasn't done.
“Isolt’s mother was none other than Rionach Sayre neé Gaunt!” Draco’s attention shot up. “Rionach Gaunt!?”
“Does this mean someth-”
“Gaunt, in other words, the descendants of Salazar Slytherin!”
“What?”
Draco turned to Ignatia with an newfound respect. “You're not just a Shafiq, you’re a descendant of the Morrigan and Salazar Slytherin himself!”
“Um…”
Draco turned back to the goblin. “Can we get her last name changed to Gaunt?”
The goblin glanced at Ignatia once before doing just that.
“Ignatia Gaunt,” Draco mused. “I ought to marry you right here and now.”
“Okay, this situation just got out of control-”
“Where did you get your wand?” Draco asked.
“Uh-”
“Yes, your wand.”
“Funny story, actually. I was visiting Ilvermorny, and I heard the story about the snakewood tree on the grounds that nobody had ever managed to cut. So naturally, I had to go try, and somehow, I managed to break of a stick! It was ridiculously easy, actually. I might not have believed the story if my friends hadn't been right there and they had failed to break a branch.”
“The snakewood tree-” Draco gaped at her.
“What? Don't tell me-”
“That tree grew from a stick buried by Isolt Sayre.”
“And?”
“That stick happens to have been her old wand.”
“So? I have Isolt Sayre’s wand.”
“And before it was her wand, it was the wand of Salazar Slytherin. The core of which happens to be from a Basilisk.”
“Merlin’s soggy underpants.”
“Can I… can I see it?” Draco asked with reverence.
Hesitantly, Ignatia snapped it from her wand holster.
Carefully, Draco took it and held it at each end. “This wand is over a millennia old,” he murmured.
Ignatia grabbed it back and dragged Draco out of the bank. They Apparated back.
“We have got to get this story out,” Draco said, practically dancing with excitement. “No- even better- I'll take you along to the next Wizengamot session and announce it there! But I've got to tell Mother first-”
“Riiight. What was that about marrying me?” Ignatia demanded.
Draco winced.
-oOoOo-
Harry did his best not to slouch in his Wizengamot seat. He actually had two, but as usual, sat in the Potter Seat. Hermione had insisted that he be an active member, if only to assist her as Minister.
He straightened slightly when Malfoy entered, escorting a woman with him.
“Mr. Malfoy,” Kiplin began, “any non-Wizengamot members are-”
“Oh, she is a member,” Malfoy said casually. “She just needs to claim her seat, and I agreed to escort her.”
“Uh,” Kiplin stammered. “Then. Uh. Please do so.”
Malfoy smirked. “Lord and Ladies of the Wizengamot, it is my pleasure to introduce Lady Ignatia, Head of the Noble and Most Ancient Houses of Shafiq and Gaunt.”
The court went into an uproar. A bright light swirled in the center of the floor, snakewood green and then a brown-cream color, and morphed into two shapes: a sphinx, which roared, and a green serpent—no, a Basilisk, which hissed. They rushed at her, and startled, she drew her wand, but they went right through her and dissipated. In the risers, the Shafiq and Gaunt seats lit up, and the people seated nearby shied away.
The light settled, and Lady Ignatia was now wearing green and brown robes, with two crests over her right breast, one for each House.
People were shouting questions at her, and Harry heard “Slytherin!” “Dead” "You-Know-Who's daughter" and “Egyptian?!” Among them.
Finally, after repeated blasts from Griselda Marchbank’s wand, they settled down.
“Oh,” Lady Ignatia said finally, looking around the court and down at the crests. And said the first thing that came to mind. “Huh. I get new robes?”