The Right Kind of Wrong

With the experience of the previous two days' exams, everyone had gained a fairly intuitive impression of the standard of the O.W.L.s.

Wednesday's Herbology written exam was much like the previous two written papers. It mainly tested the magical properties and applications of magical plants and fungi, somewhat similar to the Charm Theory exam. There were also one hundred questions, most of which came from One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.

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

The afternoon practical exam was held in Greenhouse Three. Candidates had to enter the greenhouse one by one, deal with a Venomous Tentacula on their own, and collect a certain number of fangs.

The key to earning a high score was to avoid being bitten by the Venomous Tentacula as much as possible. The examiners graded students based on whether their fang-collecting procedures were proper and whether they had been bitten.

Even with Dragonhide Gloves on, Fred was bitten repeatedly by the Venomous Tentacula. His attempt to pick the fangs was an absolute mess, while George seemed completely at ease dealing with it.

"At last, I can be rid of this subject."

While eating dinner, Fred repeatedly examined the injuries on his hands and complained, "I don't have much patience for looking after those things. I'll be satisfied if I can barely scrape a pass. I wasn't planning to keep taking this subject anyway."

"Making joke products will definitely require a lot of magical plants," Albert reminded him.

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

"What