A/N: By the way, bilateral clubfeet means that you have it in both feet, and clubfeet means that your feet are twisted inward (and sometimes under themselves). Essentially. I have bilateral clubfeet, so this was written mostly from personal experience. (Granted, my own were severe enough to require surgery, particularly as it happened 20+ years ago. Anyway!)

It was unexpected. Something that only happened to those with Muggle ancestry. Wizarding tests couldn't find it. Nothing could find it, really. It wasn't anyone's fault. There was no one to blame.

There was only Lily Luna Potter, born on a freezing November evening, with bilateral clubfeet.

Or so they presumed, for none of the medical staff actually knew what was wrong. Only Harry knew, and that was because he recalled a boy he'd gone to school with, who had the same problem. His baby girl had clubfeet, and not a soul in St. Mungo's could do a damn thing about it.

"The Muggles have tricks-surgery or something, casts, I don't know, why can't you help?" her irate father demanded, but they had no answer. It wasn't a magical thing. In all other respects, Ginny had given birth to a healthy baby girl and it was the next afternoon they were released, Ginny with a slip of paper directing her to the nearest Muggle hospital.

"Perhaps they can help you," the head of the maternity wing told her with a helpless shrug. Pale-faced and worn out from the birth, Ginny had only nodded.

But the Muggles had no real answers either. Something called the Ponseti method. Putting their child into casts and keeping her that way for Merlin knew how long. At first both Harry and Ginny were vehemently against it, shouting so loudly at the doctor that Lily woke up and began to cry.

"I'm sorry, but there's nothing else we can do," Dr. Brooke informed them stiffly. "Surgery isn't recommended until a child is at least three months old, and preferably older. And it inevitably causes problems later in life, stiffens things up, makes walking and playing more difficult. If you try the Ponseti method, there's a very real chance that her feet can essentially be normal in a few years."

"Fine," Harry sighed, scrubbing a hand through his messy black hair. Ginny bit her lip and nodded. Miraculously, at the same time, the newborn Lily stopped crying and gurgled up at her parents, as if she knew what decision they'd made.

But if they thought it would be a smooth process, they were sorely mistaken. Lily hated the casts and cried every time they were newly put on. She hated the shoes, as well, and would look up at her mother with such tearful brown eyes, Ginny found herself tearing up as well.

"I can't do this!" she wailed on Harry's shoulder more than once, when James and Al had been put to bed, and the house was quiet. He only patted her shoulder and finger-combed her hair and told her that it would get better. It had to.

It took years, but it did. Of course, clubfeet didn't just go away. Lily had a permanent limp, because her right foot was just that little bit worse. On bad days, she couldn't even run to the park with her friends because her feet hurt so much. It didn't help not even her brothers understood. James was aloof, calling her his baby sister with careless brotherly condescension. Albus Severus, on the other hand, was crueler. On more than one occasion, Harry caught the boy taunting her, calling her a freak, and his mind was instantly transported back to his own childhood. Freak! Get back in the cupboard. How dare you show your freakiness? His face had gone dead white and he'd nearly yanked Al away, scolding him in such a fierce tone that Al had cried. He'd felt ashamed afterward, but couldn't quite bring himself to apologise to his middle son. For any other word, he could have, but not that one.

On the night before Lily finally left for Hogwarts herself, Ginny could tell that her daughter wasn't quite herself. She kept pacing up and down the living room, staggering a bit more with each rendition. Finally, Ginny had to speak up.

"Lily? What's wrong?"

Lily looked up, her eyes suspiciously damp-looking. She wiped her nose with the side of her hand and shrugged.

"I'm practising, mum," she finally replied, making another circuit around the room. Ginny was baffled.

"Practising for what, Lily?"

"Walking, mum," Lily nodded. "So no one calls me a freak at Hogwarts."

"Oh, Lily," Ginny pulled herself out of her rocking chair and went to her youngest, sitting down on the floor and tugging Lily down into her lap, as if she were a baby once more. Lily looked confused (and slightly annoyed), but acquiesced.

"Lily, there is nothing wrong with you," Ginny said earnestly, rocking her only daughter back and forth a little and smoothing her vivid red hair back from her forehead. "So your feet are a little different. So what? You're still you."

"But people will make fun of me," Lily said, her bottom lip wobbling.

"And when they do, you hex their lungs off," Ginny replied automatically.

"Is that possible?" Lily asked, excited. Her eyes shone. "What's the spell?"

"Lily!" Ginny reproved, her cheeks colouring. "I didn't mean literally. And I shouldn't encourage you to hex your classmates. You should go to your professors. But when that doesn't work, a good hex in the right place works wonders..."

"Still," Lily's shoulders slumped.

"I promise you, you will find friends who like you for you, and who don't care about your feet," Ginny told her. "And if something happens-write me. Your father and I will help."

"Okay," Lily said, perking up a little bit. "Can I go to bed now, Mum? I'm really tired."

"Of course," Ginny said warmly, helping her youngest to her feet. "Good night, honey."

"Good night, Mum," Lily yawned, swaying a little. "And Mum?"

"Yes, dear?" Ginny asked, standing herself and feeling her back twinge. Lily's eyes sparkled.

"Thanks."