Well, since Puh-Schell's arm is broken, I'm typing. Puh-Schell said a nickname would be good for me, but since I'm only a Beta and will most likely never write anything, I'm Damien. That's a French name.

Now, Puh-Schell starts rambling about the next chapter and I think I'm supposed to type that…

The 'Daywalker-problem-solving' group – as Seamus had put it – had taken residence in a relatively small Ministry building in Kirkcaldy. Draco and Blaise stayed up on the top floor, Seamus, Dean and Neville and Ron had their chambers on the first floor, Hermione had her next to the research room on the ground floor and Severus had – to his luck – the basement.

The basement was perfect for him. He liked dark, shadowed places. The temperature didn't bother him, seeing as he was nearly dead and had a low body temperature anyway.

He was currently gazing at the green-red dagger and letting his fingers wander along the hilt. He remembered how he had first seen that dagger…

+ + + +  Flashback  + + + +

Severus stood in the chamber of Secrets at Hogwarts. His… he supposed he could call him friend, after all they had gotten along much better recently and now he was even teaching him the Dark Arts, was standing proudly near a transfigured stone that now resembled a desk.

In his hands was a small, green-red something. Severus walked closer to him, curious about the object that had taken his friend's interest.

"What kind of odds and ends is that?" He tried to let his voice be sarcastic or cruel, but – as always – it failed. This person was just… impossible in the right ways.

Two brilliant green eyes turned to his direction and a smile was on the face of his student.

"I made it! I did it! It worked!"

By now, Severus was really interested in the object.

"What did you do?"

The eyes seemed to dance with joy, and Severus realised that a very sweet scent of blood was in the air. ~He must really be happy about his work, otherwise he wouldn't smell that… delicious.~

" I created a Pectus sorbeo! A soul-drinker!" By now the boy was dancing in small circles and whistling. The dagger lay momentary forgotten on the desk. Severus' eyes had widened a bit when he had heard the name, but he had to see that weapon for himself.

He walked the last two steps to the desk and picked the dagger up. It was made of the unbreakable red and green glass of the Red Mountain – a special, from many undead creatures such as skeletons or zombies haunted place. The glass was extremely expensive and – at least in shops – extremely rare, because nobody wanted to take the risk of going anywhere near Red Mountain.

Two gems were worked into the hilt, an emerald and a ruby. And the boy – young man, Severus corrected himself, no boy could make that – pectoris and even some small lamiae runes were on the dagger. A Hogwarts seventh year had succeeded in making a soul-drinker, a dagger that would not only hurt your flesh, but your soul and mind as well. And with the lamiae runes extra,… that was a powerful dagger. And well made.

"I have to admit, that dagger is well made. Ever thought of becoming an enchanter?"

The green eyes had stopped their victory dance and were again resting on him.

"I'm going to be something better than an enchanter."

Severus half-smiled at him, then his eyes fell on the hilt again.
"Why is there an A on the hilt?"

"Why? To say who it belongs to, of course!"

"I didn't know you had a name with A as the first letter."

"I haven't"

Severus looked again directly at the eyes.

"Then why an A?"

"What do you know about religion?"

Severus arched an eyebrow up. His companion sighed.

"I suppose that means no. Well, in Christian religion, there is a special Angel of Death. He is the one who kills the people, so to say, and 'takes their souls with him'. His name is Azrael." And the green eyes twinkled.

~That makes sense. The dagger is a soul-drinker, and the name of the Angel who takes the people's souls is Azrael. A. It really is a rather interesting and good choice.~

"Interesting."

"Come on, Sev! You have to say, that's good, isn't it?"

A heavy sigh from Severus. "Yes, I have to admit it is a well made choice. Now tell me, what do you think is better than a talented enchanter?"

He should have been suspicious since then. Hell, he had been suspicious since then, but he had always thought he just read to much into things. Because no normal 18-and-about-four-months-old would answer that.

"Why, a vampire of course."

He should have realised what the boy had wanted since his fourth year.

+ + + +  Flashback end  + + + +

Hermione and the others were currently sitting in the research room, a room filled with as much books on Daywalkers, Vampires and now Weapons too, as possible. The group was searching for something about the dagger Severus had bought earlier, as he himself would not tell them anything.

"Why don't we just go down into the basement and demand the answers from him? He's not being very cooperative, you know?" Ron asked.

"Because, a) He is most likely going to not tell us anything and simply leave us in this shit and b) We're going to be most likely vampire food if we try to attack him. He is an old Daywalker, knows much about the Dark Arts and – and I point this out – nobody knows to which class he belonged that he was turned into a Daywalker." Blaise replied calmly from behind his book.

"I hate to say that, but Blaise is right. We should count ourselves lucky that he even does help us. He only does the teaching job in honour to Dumbledore, you know?" Neville pointed out.

Ron shook his head. "It's still not very cooperative, but hey, it's Snape. Ex-Death Eater extraordinaire and vampire. Not much to expect there, is it?"

Draco shot him a cold look. "He was a spy and deserves some respect, you know? He even carried Harry out of that Hellhole that was the base."

The little group went silent.

"I wonder what Snape did to Harry that he packed his things and just disappeared. That's not like him." Ron declared.

Hermione patted his back. "Ron, maybe Harry wanted to lead a quiet live. You know him. He always resented his fame. Maybe that was his way to deal with it?"

Blaise cleared his throat. "I understand that this is a special subject for you, but we have a Daywalker to catch and somehow I believe he won't turn himself in."

"Blaise is right." Neville peeped up. "We should try to find something about that dagger or known Daywalkers who liked such things."

Ron groaned. "The major problem with those Daywalkers is the fact that they were killed. Snape is the last known one!"

"Just look through the books. There has to be something." This said, Hermione turned again to her book, as did the others.

A dark, tall figure stood in an empty street near the Sica inacnto. It was looking directly at the shop, but the few passing wizards or witches that were still out this hour – nearly midnight now – didn't notice it. The figure didn't want to be noticed. He needed to be invisible, but that would be a waste of energy at the moment. No one there that was strong enough and that he required to be invisible for.

Silently, he made his way down the street until he stood under one window of the shop owner's flat above the shop. He let his hands wander over the wall and after one minute, he found what he was searching for and began to climb up the house wall.

He was like a deadly shadow creeping up the wall to find his prey. Finally, he reached the window and noiseless opened it. He stepped into a living-room.

He closed the window for the moment, not wanting anybody to be alert should someone pass by. Then he sniffed the air.

~Second door on the left… Wizard, pureblood, about fifty. That's the shop owner. Last scent since last time.~

He slowly made his way to said door and opened it carefully. Wizards could be rather nasty if the tried to be.

Seeing that the man was asleep and snoring loudly, he made his way over to the bed, opening the chest next to the bed soundless.

He rummaged a bit through it, and frowned when he couldn't find what he was doing. His dagger was not here. Why was his dagger not here? It had been here one week ago.

Now he noticed a bunch of money down at the end of the chest. Should his dagger have been sold? Then he would have to track the new owner… a bothersome work.

He took the money in his hand and sniffed.

Suddenly his senses were overloaded with a familiar scent of …

{Cauldrons. Poisons. Dark, cold air. Blood. Ice. Cold, rich blood flowing through half-dead veins. A slow heartbeat, matching his own. Sweet, black, poisonous blood floating through his own veins like a gift. Cauldrons. More and more cauldrons. Severus}

He let the money fall down into the chest, not caring if the wizard would awake or not.

His sire was here. His sire had come and taken his dagger.

He smiled and turned to look at the half-awake wizard.

"I simply have to celebrate that, don't you think?" He asked the rapidly awaking wizard.

Just as the wizard was fully awake, he sank his fangs into the his flesh. He happily drank the powerful, magical blood and decided to try out his telepathy once again.

Severus had just walked into the research room around half past midnight to be greeted with unhappy faces. Unhappy about the fact that neither the dagger nor a Daywalker with these tendencies seemed to exist.

"Well, I tell you Snape, we haven't come here to sit around the whole day and read books. Tell us what you know, now!"

Severus was amused about the fact that Ron Weasley still had as much temper as a five year old, but before he had time to make a sarcastic reply, a telepathic call found him.

/I know where my dagger is./ The statement was underlined with a heavy vampire purr that lingered in Severus' mind.

/I knew it was you!/ He send back before the connection was shut off again by his wayward childe.

Just now did he notice that he had spun around, head pointing in the direction of the 'voice' and that he was holding his right hand against his forehead.

"Professor?" Hermione asked in concern.