Because of his three-day appointment with the Department of Mysteries, Voldemort had reluctantly been unable to go.
For the next three days, his body remained restricted in its movements, leaving him lying in bed most of the time.
After three days, most of the Power of Time had faded, and he finally regained more mobility.
But going out in that condition would be far too risky, so Voldemort could only break his promise again.
The Department of Mysteries said they understood.
"Not getting trapped in an endless time loop was already the best possible outcome. I told him ages ago not to do that."
That was the message from the Department of Mysteries, and it carried a hint of schadenfreude.
"I was... too... reckless..."
Voldemort gave Abou a stiff smile as he spoke, prompting Abou to laugh heartily right in front of him for quite a while.
The conversation ended amid the laughter. Voldemort wasn't in any condition to talk for long, so Abou hurriedly took his leave.
Nobody thought Voldemort's condition was a serious problem.
Wizards dealt with magical wonders every day, and things going wrong was common.
All wizards had long since grown used to it.
Voldemort's little house fell quiet again, and he became absorbed in studying his own body.
His body was made of magic, and according to the rules of magical depletion, it would slowly grow weaker.
When it weakened to the point that it could no longer sustain his soul, it would collapse and vanish in an instant.
That was its original course, but after the Power of Time seeped into it, Voldemort noticed a strange change:
Some of the magic had become a vessel for the Power of Time, which in turn had imbued that magic with its own power and the properties