The Right Kind of Wrong

Everyone had gained a fairly clear impression of the O.W.L.s' difficulty from the previous two days of exams.

Wednesday's Herbology written exam, like the previous two, mainly tested the magical properties and applications of magical plants and fungi. It was somewhat like the Charms Theory exam, with a hundred questions to answer, most of which came from A Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.

So, if you wanted a high score on the Herbology written exam, it depended on how thoroughly you had memorized A Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.

The afternoon practical exam took place in Greenhouse Three. Candidates had to enter Greenhouse Three one by one, deal with a Venomous Tentacula alone, and collect a specified number of its fangs.

The key to earning high marks was to avoid being bitten by the Venomous Tentacula as much as possible. The examiners would grade students based on whether their fang-harvesting procedure was proper and whether they had been bitten.

Even with dragon-hide gloves on, Fred was bitten by the Venomous Tentacula several times. His performance while harvesting the fangs was an utter mess. George, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease when dealing with the Venomous Tentacula.

"At last, I can be done with this subject."

As they ate dinner, Fred repeatedly inspected the injuries on his hands and complained, "I don't have the patience to tend to those things. I'll be satisfied if I can barely scrape a pass. I wasn't planning to continue taking this subject anyway."

"Making joke items will definitely require a large number of magical plants," Albert reminded him.

"But aren't you and George here?" Fred shrugged. "George and I discussed it ages ago. One of us studies Transfiguration, the other studies Herbology. We call it division of labor."

"What about brewing Potions?" Lee