Prologue
Written on an old journal in parseltongue.
After years of research and fine tuning, I have finally discovered how to tie the elements to my command. One cannot control them in their raw form, not and hope to survive. Instead, they require hosts. Through these hosts, I, the master, will control their actions, thus controlling the elements that inhabit them.
These hosts cannot be selected by the master. Every attempt to do so failed, killing each potential host I put before them. The hosts appear randomly selected by the elements themselves, but closer inspection reveals that the hosts share traits with the element which chooses them.
Water is fluid, ever-moving and changing. Mine is a seer of some power. Air is an ally, and was the first to come to me. Fire has an explosive temper, and has already begun struggling against my control. He will come to heel. Nature is a quiet soul, preferring his plants and animals to the workings of the world.
So far, their connection with the element inside them is minimal, but I know they’ve been chosen. Each of them, as implemented into the ritual, is marked on their right wrist by the symbol of their element. It is how they are found. It is through that mark that the master controls them.
Sabriel Slytherin, 113
A Ritual is scribed onto the following pages.
~*~*~*~
Voldemort stood at the center of the ritual circle. It was a week after his resurrection, and he was wasting no time in guaranteeing his eventual victory. Just before the Potter incident nearly 14 years ago, he had found a set of old journals detailing an ancient ritual created by an ancestor even older than the great Salazar Slytherin. Sabriel Slytherin had discovered how to tie the elements to him, doing what no one else had ever managed before. He’d then saved the details in a journal, written in parseltongue so only his descendants might know the secret.
Now, back from near death, Voldemort turned in a circle, staring at the four people kneeling at four points around him. The ritual required four wizards, all of sane mind to stand in for the elements. They would not be the hosts, which was particularly disappointing. These men wouldn't have to be trained, or made loyal. They already were.
But, they could, and were, being the spiritual placement of the four hosts he would have to find and bring to task. 15 years ago, it had seemed like too much work when he was already winning. Now, he had time, and he had learned patience.
He spoke in parseltongue the words which had long ago been memorized and practiced for over a decade. Around him, the four men shivered at the sound of his voice hissing out.
He turned North, staring at Snape, the closest he got within his followers to a being of nature. The Potions Master had a great respect for the natural world. He had to, as his profession required it. Recognizing his cue, Severus leaned forward, prostrating himself, swearing loyalty to him, only to him, never wavering, unto death. The oath would transition to the host, forcing their loyalty to Voldemort, giving him all the control he needed once he could find them.
His oath done, Severus remained down, a willing symbol of the elements’ submission to their master.
Lucius knelt to the east, and as Voldemort turned to him, hissing in Parseltongue, the man remained still. Air was always an ally, someone who believed the same, and strove to achieve the master’s goals. As such, it made sense that the representative be the same. As Voldemort finished, the blond recognized his cue, and immediately prostrated himself like Severus before him. and swore loyalty to him, only to him, never wavering, unto death.
Corban Yaxley knelt to the soul, representing fire. He had a devious streak to him, and while he could be calm and think things through, he was often quick to act without thinking. There was no one else Voldemort could think of that would represent Fire among his Death Eaters.
Once done with Fire, Voldemort turned West, hissing once again. Water, from everything he’d read, was often a seer of some ability, and always surrendered to the inevitable before long. With this in mind, Voldemort has chosen Wormtail to stand in for the element. He was under no delusions that the rat was his most loyal follower, nor that he had returned for any reasons but his own, but in this instance, he worked perfectly.
As soon as Wormtail finished his oath, the circle surrounding Voldemort flared to life. Closest to Severus, the old marble cracked, a vine of roses and poison ivy growing upward, obscuring his view of his dark servant. A quarter of the way around the circle, the plants cut off. From it to the southern section, small tornadoes whirled along the line. A thin line of fire erupted to the south, though never spilling over the lines, either toward Voldemort, or Yaxley. Finally, in the final quarter flowed a wall of water.
Smirking at a job well done, Voldemort raised his hands, hissing out the final part of the ritual, binding the elements to him, and bidding them to seek out their hosts. In a flash, the elements vanished, returning the room to its former quiet gloom.
It had begun.