Element

I. Earth

Creates.

We wouldn't exist if there wasn't the earth. Nothing would grow. The earth was always a symbol of birth to me. Creation. The earth is the foundation for everything we are. For everything we do.

We came from the earth. In a sense, at least. All of us, and everything else that exists. Well, once upon a time. Our ancestors came from the earth and we came from them... But that all really depends on what theory of creation you believe.

And that's beside the point.

The point is earth means a beginning. It means birth. Infancy. Childhood. Innocence. The start of it all.

You might think a person as cultured, distinguished, and respected as myself would have a spectacular start to life, but no. My story begins typically.

I was born in a hospital from my mother. I was given a name, and then taken home. From day one I was taught the important lessons of life:

And so forth. The full list is comprised of some seven hundred, eighty-one items. My father kept a framed copy in his study, right above the statue of Salazar Slytherin. The statue itself was quite fond of randomly testing my knowledge of the list by making me recite it.

Anyway. The whole list, as well as numerous other valuable lessons of life, ( hard work may take you far, but ass-kissing will take you further) was instilled in me from the day I was born.

Home was my earth. I grew and was cultivated until the time came that I was sent off to school and took my rightful place in Slytherin house.

I worked diligently though my school years, learning all I could and far surpassing the expectations my professors had for me, but not those of my parents. My father was not a man easily impressed.

I graduated Hogwarts top of my class with the titles of Prefect and Head Boy to my name. Not bad.

The school was a transition for me. From the small pot to a large garden. From a little soil to the whole earth.

II. Wind

Blows.

I blew through my late teenage years and early twenties. Having been initiated into the Dark Lord's service before even leaving school, I spent several of the years afterwards rising through the ranks of a Death Eater, from that of a lowly worshipper to the space reserved for me right by my father in my Master's inner circle.

I swept past my friends on my way to the top just as I had in school, leaving them much like trees after a brutal wind: rattled and some even broken.

They had expected it of me, of course. They had expected that I would surpass them so quickly that they would be left blinking in the dust and wondering what the bleedin' hell had happened.

After all, I was always the strong one, the leader of our crew.

The wind marked my flight to adulthood.

I made my first kill on a windy night. I remember it clearly. Twigs snapping as they tried to resist it, my victim's screams lost in the howl. The wind added to my exhilaration. It truly is a great thing to feel the sort of power one does when one holds another's life by a thread, which can be cut at any moment. Control. Power.

III. Fire

Burns.

From the outside in, inside out... Fire can reduce anything to ashes. It destroys all and cures all problems. Don't like what that book says? Burn it. Don't want someone spreading lies (or the truth) about you? Shazzam, they feel the burn.

Besides, fire is pretty. Especially as it consumes someone or something you want to destroy.

I remember they had candles at my wedding. That was an event I won't forget. Someone, perhaps in a drunken moment, dropped a candle and set everything ablaze. The place went up in flames and it took a few lives with it, too. Not a big deal. I didn't particularly like them all that much. I only had them invited because my dear mother insisted on it, despite not having spoken to them in fifteen years.

Fire was always my favorite element. It was the easiest way to destroy. The most beautiful, too.

Fire burned away a great deal of the obstacles that stood in my way throughout life, objects and people alike. Sometimes they were dead when the first took them over. But not always.

IV. Water

Falls.

As rain, as ice, as snow. From the sky, from cliffs.

Humans cannot survive without it. It's an essential to all life. Ironically, it is also often linked with horror.

How many times does one stumble across the sentence "it was a dark and stormy night" when reading a horror novel?

Clichéd as it was, the rain fell the night I did.

The storm had passed, leaving only a light, falling mist behind. The streets were slick and wet. Every time a car drove past there was a small splash and the spray of water. Streetlights were reflected by the pavement, orange and yellow.

As well as another type of light. The green and red jets that shot between myself and my opponent as we avoided slipping on the pavement and giving the ther an advantage.

There is no real story to my death. There is nothing to describe in great detail that will keep you, dear reader, on the edge of your seat wondering whether I would possibly make it through the battle. Of course, do know that I appreciate your concern.

To make a rather tedious and long story short, I was eventually bested. Even the greatest must fall. Falling leaves return to their roots, you know. They return to the earth.

The bastard who managed - by pure chance and luck, I assure you - to deprive the world of me in the end left me there. The rain picked up and I lay there, dead, my clothes and hair soaked, until the time when I was found the next morning.