21. Langlock

A muffled scream woke Lily with a fright. For a moment she felt disorientated as she'd been pulled from a deep stage of sleep. The muffled scream sounded again, and her motherly instincts kicked in. Thoughts of Voldemort standing over his crib flashed through her mind. No, it couldn't be.
Faint sounds of laughter pushed through those thoughts, but they didn't seem to belong. Laughter and muffled screaming. The combination sent goosebumps over her skin.

Until she recognised the laugh.
"James," she cried out, descending the stairs two at a time.
"In here," he said casually.
Through the archway and into the living room she staggered. "Wh-what's happening?" There was her Harry, who could barely open his mouth. "What happened to him? Why can't he open his mouth?" Lily fell to her knees, trying to inspect her son's mouth. "Did you langlock him or something?" Of course he wouldn't. Would he?
She pried her son's mouth open and a river of drool fell from his mouth along with something brown. "What is this?" It bobbed in her hand above the saliva she had caught.
"It's just salt water taffy," James said. Had she seriously accused him of jinxing their son?