It was only because he was a coward that he set out to learn the Unforgivable Curse. The only thing that might save him.

He found a group, an underground group, one hidden beneath the Ministry's notice by bonds and oaths and secrecy paranoia beyond any the infamous Mad-Eye Moody could hope to match. He found them, or rather they found him, as he sought further information on the one spell that might help.

Yes, there was mind-healing. Yes, there was Occlumency and Legilimency. But he didn't want someone else messing around in his head, and that left either years of painstaking effort in rewriting himself the hard way, or finding a shortcut.

So, he sought the shortcut.

Imperio was the least of the Unforgivables, and the greatest. It caused no direct harm, did no damage to either caster nor recipient, yet could be twisted to the darkest purposes if not restrained. It could do what no other mind-altering spell could do - linger on long after its caster was out of sight, reshape a person's very being to their will.

And his will was weak. That's the thing he would change.

They found him, like a sign from Merlin, a group dedicated to self-improvement by any means necessary. They let him take the oaths and they taught him.

Step by step, the words and the movements and the mental fortitude.

At last, preparations complete, they brought him to a room - a room with a mirror and a scroll upon which to write - and left him to perform the unforgivable curse he had known for a long time he one day must.

You are not a coward any longer. You will not allow others to dominate you unless you have thought about it at least ten seconds and decide it's a good idea. You will not allow fear of the consequences to bother you without due consideration. Excuses such as 'they might not like me' are unacceptable. Consider only moral and legal repercussions as essential, all others are secondary and must be reasoned and considered.

They'd helped him add some of the clauses. He hadn't thought it through. It embarrassed him how naive he'd been. His plan had been to simply command himself, stop being weak. Stand up for yourself. Don't worry about the consequences, but obviously this way was better. He wouldn't want to completely ignore potential problems. That would be just as mad as allowing his weakness and fear to control him.

They'd wanted to spend another week on fine-tuning the words exactly, but he couldn't wait so long. He'd put it off the hour it took them to make these changes, he wasn't waiting any more.

He could only hope - no, trust - that this change would be for the best. He had no intention of being weak the rest of his life, but habit - ingrained so long, so deep - could not be so easily cast aside.

It took power, unforgivable power, to make so drastic a change.

He watched his hand in the mirror, turned it to face himself, arranged himself so his eyes would fall on the parchment of instructions, and whispered the incantation.