Fred suddenly sighed, shook out the fabric in his hands, and said with utter seriousness.
"If you ask me, traditional class-three protective robes should have been scrapped ages ago. They're as heavy as two fully grown Horklumps sewn into your clothes. You can barely turn around. If there really were a laboratory leak, you couldn't even run away wearing those things."
Several Aurors who had been eager to act exchanged glances at this, their hands unconsciously tightening around their wands.
None of them wanted to expose themselves to a dangerous toxin that even St. Mungo's could not cure just to carry out a routine search.
"Tell me about it!"
George took the opportunity to pull out the other end of the fabric.
"But the good news is that the senior Weasley engineers are tackling this historic challenge. Although Professor Holmes only cares about his basic theories, we, as practical engineers, are developing an upgraded generation of lightweight specialist protective clothing."
"We can even tailor it into field combat robes for Aurors," Fred added with a grin.
Scrimgeour's attention was instantly caught. As a veteran Auror who had spent years struggling on the edge of life and death, he had a far keener eye for defensive equipment than those bureaucrats in Ministry of Magic offices who only knew how to read reports.
"Protective fabric?" Scrimgeour looked at the cloth. "What's it made of? This definitely isn't conventional dragon hide. Dragon hide doesn't have this kind of stretch."
"Sharp eyes! Just what you'd expect from the new head of the Aurors!" Fred exclaimed admiringly, offering the fabric a little closer. "Acromantula silk blended with mithril microfilaments and a detoxified spiritual coating."
"Feel it. Don't be shy, feel all you like."
George was as enthusiastic as an assistant at Madam Malkin's Robes for