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To be honest, the idea that "knowledge is poisonous" immediately set Ian's teeth on edge.
It simply didn't belong here. Anyone with a passing familiarity with the wizarding world could tell that such a concept was utterly foreign to its underlying tone and rhythm.
Now, the idea that knowledge has weight, that a certain understanding is too much for a wizard to bear without reaching a particular level of power, that made sense. It could easily be a feature of any supernatural world. But that's a world away from the notion of "poisonous knowledge."
It's also entirely different from the effect of black magic on the soul. In that case, the damage comes from the act of using the magic, the transgression of drawing on a corrupt source. Simply studying or academically researching a dark spell doesn't taint a person's spirit. The negative influence only comes after one uses the magic.
That's the fundamental difference: the idea that the mere act of knowing something could be inherently harmful.
The moment Ian heard the claim, he immediately smelled a rat. There was a distinct whiff of something "foreign origin" about it.
Think about it: If this world had always contained the concept that "knowledge is poisonous," then history would be absolutely crammed with tales of wizards who tried to grasp "toxic" knowledge and ended up "poisoned" by it.
In that scenario, the influence of black magic on the soul wouldn't be considered the greatest taboo among wizards. Instead, the world would be full of wizards corrupted by forbidden lore, and mad prophets trying to spread such corruption to others.
Taking all this into account, Ian reached a conclusion: Professor Morgan's idea of "poisonous knowledge" had to be a special case.
In other words, a select group of beings, specific life forms, had placed a curse-like power upon certain forms of information. That must be what gave rise to the concept of "poisonous knowledge" in this world.
So then… who exactly cursed that knowledge?
'Hmm.'
That's hard to guess, and Ian wisely chose not to guess.
Of course, it was also possible that the fundamental logic of the world itself had been subtly altered, but Ian felt that the possibility was rather slim. After all, that kind of cosmic-level change would require an authority akin to genuine Creation itself.
"Uh… Professor," Ian finally said, realizing that if this knowledge was indeed "poisonous," it must have caused Morgan significant trouble in the past. He coughed tactically and decided to change the subject immediately.
No need to press Morgan further and risk some potential 'Cho Chang–style post-settlement' later on. Since Morgan had already passed the information on, Ian could research it carefully on his own time and figure it out quite a bit later.
"Do you know why I ended up in the domain of that so-called goddess of witches, Circe? Was it because I once interacted with the ancient Greek gods back in that past timeline?"
That was the question Ian had been holding back for a while.
However, in response to Ian's question, Morgan didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she lifted her hand with a graceful flick, and a teacup materialized out of thin air. The silver spoon inside began to stir itself, rotating with slow, measured precision.
When the porcelain met the silver, a crisp sound rang out, clear and rhythmic, almost like a strange, repetitive melody. It was the kind of unsettling noise that wouldn't bring comfort to most people.
"How interesting," Morgan murmured. "It seems time really can change a person."
Her silver eyes, almost tangible, were fixed on Ian, sweeping across every flicker of his expression.
Ian looked utterly bewildered.
After a long, silent pause, Morgan chuckled softly at Ian's confusion.
"Actually," She said, her voice light and airy like the steam rising from her cup, "isn't that a question you should be asking yourself?"
She took a gentle, deliberate sip of tea, then added teasingly, "The Lord of the Dead, the Raven of the Underworld… and the God-Eater, Medivh."
Morgan set her teacup down. The soft clink of porcelain against the wooden table echoed quietly in the air.
Each word she spoke was slow and deliberate, her tone laced with amusement. It was clear that she knew far more about Ian's sprawling, messy identities than nearly any other living wizard. This legendary dark witch might even understand Ian better than Merlin himself.
And yet, no one could truly guess what thoughts were hidden behind that composed, knowing smile.
Unlike before, Morgan didn't bother concealing what she knew this time. Somehow, she could tell exactly what Ian already understood, and what he was still struggling to grasp.
"Uh…"
For a moment, Ian was speechless.
"To be honest, I don't really understand how all those names relate to me," he admitted, scratching the back of his head. "It all feels like an even worse tangle than a knotted string. I only know that… my wand seems to have some connection with the gods."
He raised his wand slightly. He'd suspected for a while that some core part of his existence was linked to the gods, perhaps even to their very disappearance. After all, the strange business with the Raven had already hinted at a massive, unsettling truth.
"You're surprisingly honest."
Morgan's tone carried a faint smile as she once again set her teacup down, the soft tap marking a quiet pause. She regarded Ian silently, her gaze unwavering, until the tips of his ears began to grow warm under the weight of her attention.
"Some secrets," She finally said, "are yours alone to uncover. The mystery of the gods, and most of what concerns the Raven, are secrets even I have yet to comprehend."
"I don't have that privilege."
The legendary dark witch shrugged, her voice carrying an unusual trace of resignation. Her eyes fell to the wand at Ian's hip, her expression layered and unreadable.
"What I can tell you relates only to the riddles surrounding Medivh. Perhaps the path you are meant to follow is entirely different from that of the gods."
Ian nodded thoughtfully. He recalled his recent research, his deep reflections on the very essence of wizards, and his conclusion that a wizard represented infinite possibility.
His remarkable teacher's insight, it seemed, was once again on point.
After all, Ian hadn't even shared his latest findings with Morgan yet. The fact that she could reach such a conclusion, that his own path might be separate from the gods, meant she had likely sought traces of Medivh herself back when she was alive.
"A wizard as a god… capable of conquering all impossibilities," Ian murmured, stroking his chin. He wondered if Morgan somehow knew whether he had truly succeeded.
A part of him hesitated; perhaps this wasn't something he should ask.
Just as Ian wavered, Morgan's voice cut him off, edged with a weariness Ian had never heard from her before. "A wizard who can conquer all impossibilities? Perhaps only you would believe that."
Her eyes drifted toward the flames dancing restlessly in the hearth.
"And what about the thing from the Mirror of Erised?" Morgan asked suddenly, her voice light but abrupt. The thoughts of a woman who had lived for centuries were as unpredictable as ever, speaking of cosmic mysteries one moment, and switching topics without warning the next.
"Ah?" Ian blinked, caught off guard.
It took him a few seconds to realize Morgan was referring to the mysterious alchemical artifact he and the younger Morgan had retrieved from the Mirror of Erised in the past timeline.
"Oh, that thing."
He reached into his inner pocket and pulled out an ancient-looking metal box.
"It's right here, but…"
Ian hesitated, glancing nervously at the dark witch before him. Choosing his words carefully, he scratched his head and said, "I'm sorry, Professor… I accidentally left your Mirror of Erised in the past."
Indeed, his return had been far too abrupt. He hadn't even managed to bring Riddle or Malfoy back with him, let alone the huge, ornate Mirror of Erised.
(To Be Continued…)