Disclaimer: I don't do what the voices in my head tell me to do. Oh, and I don't own Harry Potter.

This was supposed to be crack, but I'm not really sure how that turned out, so... On with the story!

Harry Potter sat up with a groan.

"Was that really another Killing Curse I just survived?" he moaned. "I don't understand! I thought this would stop when the Horcrux was gone!"

"That's what you said last time, mate," Auror Weasley said patiently, their dark wizard bound and unconscious at his feet. Harry glared at his best friend.

"It's so nice to know that you'd be, you know, completely uncaring at the fact that I should've died and I didn't," Harry said acidly. He got an odd look from Ron at that comment.

"Should I be sad that you didn't die? My mistake, I didn't know," Ron replied sarcastically. "Besides, you've been hit with them so many times, I reckon you were born with an immunity or something."

"That's not how immunities work," said Harry automatically, who'd actually had to listen to Healer-in-Training Hermione Weasley's half-hour lecture on the subject (unlike her husband, who had been able to sit with a vacant expression and nod every few minutes, lucky sod). "You have to be exposed to a sickness little by little so that your system gets used to it and your immune system can fight it off more effectively." He stopped and a mask of horror came over his face.

"Thanks, Hermione," Ron muttered, but Harry wasn't paying attention. His mind was whirring swiftly between denial and realisation.

They couldn't have- but if they had to- he was their child!- and it was the middle of a war, they must've been desperate!

He hadn't even known that his parents could have cast the Killing Curse around him.

"Oh my God," Harry said helplessly.

His parents had been horrible, brilliant, absolutely mad people.