Edward had been doing his homework. He knew who was whom. He had matched names with faces, and he was blending into the night. He was dressed in a black suit. Black slacks, a black sportscoat, a black shirt, black tie, and a black dress hat, with a black walking stick with a black crystal handle. The tie tack was a silver bullet without the gunpowder, and his hat was tilted down over his eyes. He had noticed some of the dark arts wizards stepping aside from him as he walked confidently down the alley as if he'd owned it and into the shop.
Borgin and Burkes at night was a dismal and evil place, and there was a certain part of his overly logical brain that was fascinated by the curiosities there. There were little nooks and crannies that seemed to have the same artifacts that he remembered were there when he was a boy. And that had been just a damned long time. There were some things even the smarter dark arts practioners didn't mess with. Those were the things that he was interested in.
He had bought a few of them. Murderous things. Evil things. And for him, needful things. And then on a whim, he bought a ring. His wife would have called the thing 'completely hideous.' It was a black and red bloodstone mounted in antique silver. It was a rather ugly looking ring, but he did see some fascinating filligree on the mounting. He didn't see any charms or hexes associated with it, and when he slid it on his right index finger, the stone was so large that even on his large thin hand, the stone went from the basiliar joint to the metacarpophelangeal. He laid the galleons on the counter for the ring and some other bizarre curiosities that had appeared rather homeless to him and waited while the woman behind the counter put his purchases into a black cloth bag for him.
He listened to a clock chime in the distance. It was about time for the dogs to come out of hiding for the night.