Arabella closed the telephone box door, swallowing hard. She’d rarely set foot in the Ministry, and never since Barclay and Mike’s deaths. But she’d promised to watch young Harry, and she felt she’d failed him. She should’ve known that Mundungus couldn’t be trusted.
The lift gave a lurch, her stomach following, as Arabella tried to remember all she knew about Dementors. Though she’d sensed the Dementors, she’d had only a vague impression of their physical presence; she hadn’t really seen them. The kernel of her testimony would be true, and Dumbledore said it was vital. This would be her battle.