AN: You recognize it, I don't own it.
Neville Longbottom was wandering the grounds one Tuesday evening in early spring of his third year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He decided to walk down to the Herbology greenhouses, seeing as how he had some time to spare from his studies, and see if Professor Sprout needed any help with any of the plants. If she didn't, well, he had his sketchbook, he could draw some more diagrams of the rosemary bushes. He opened the glass door to the rich, humid smell of dragon dung and soil. Professor Sprout's office was located in the roof of the first greenhouse, which was full of plants that needed less sunlight than others. Neville was one of the few non-Hufflepuffs to ever venture into the Herbology Professor's private domain.
″Ah, Mister Longbottom! I'm afraid I've done everything that needs to be done today, my lad. You're welcome to stick around and draw some of the plants until dinner time, if you wish. I know you like to do that occasionally.″ The short professor said, gesturing to the myriad of flora beneath their feet.
″That was my plan, Professor Sprout. Thanks.″ Neville said, making his way back down to the greenhouse proper. He wove his way through the various rows of pots, once having to stop and disentangle himself from a creeping vine crawling along on the floor. As he continued, he heard a pot shatter and a rather loud, feminine ″Oh, shite!″
Hurrying over, he discovered a blonde girl had tripped over the same vine that had entangled him and knocked over a pot holding a mint plant. ″Are you alright?″ He asked, helping her to her feet and assisting in brushing the dirt off of her.
″Yes, I'm fine. I was examining the mint and rosemary bushes for some Gilberous Ardnors. They like to hang around plants that help you dream, you know.″ She said, staring up at him with big, innocent blue eyes.
″No, I didn't know that.″ Neville replied, not quite sure what to make of this strange girl.
″Your name is Neville Longbottom, isn't it? You're the best Herbologist in your year. My name is Luna Lovegood, but they all call me Loony.″ She said.
″Why?″ Neville asked. That seemed a horrible nickname for anyone.
″Because I believe in things they do not understand and cannot see. You see, my mother was an Elf. A High Elf, not the House elf you probably think of. And so I can see things differently. Just because you have not seen something doesn't mean it doesn't exist, but they think that because they have not heard of it before and they cannot see it now means that it does not exist.″ She said, rather bitterly.
Neville was shocked and instantly sympathetic. ″Well, I've never seen a redwood tree for myself, but that doesn't mean I don't believe it doesn't exist. And a wise man is thought to be a fool by fools that have not the perception he does.″ He said, repeating advice his grandmother had given him.
Luna smiled as she repaired the pot with a spell. ″Thank you, Neville Longbottom. I shall remember that.″ She replaced the mint plant in its container along with most of the soil and fertilizer that had fallen out. As she skipped out of the greenhouse, Neville decided he quite liked her.