Ginny found her element one afternoon during practice.
Thankfully it had been just the right element to save her life.
A rogue bludger had smashed into her broom, splintering it and sending her hurtling towards the ground. With no wand to even slow her descent, Ginny had stretched out her hands uselessly in front of her, no expectation to survive.
A blast of air had exploded from her hands, allowing her to harmless hit the ground at a much slower rate than she should have.
Her teammates had been shocked and impressed of course. As were her family, friends.
She often reflected on her element. She wondered why it was the fit for her. Was fire not the perfect fit for the "firecracker" of the Holyhead Harpies?
The brooding part of her (she was a Potter after all, even if it was by marriage) reflected on how Voldemort had been known to fly without the assistance of a broom. Like usual she wondered if that horcrux had infected her all those years ago. She knew Harry still worried about that for himself.
No, she couldn't let Voldemort hurt her like this. Not after all these years. He was dead. Forever.
Air, just like flying, gave her the freedom she always desired. She wouldn't let herself abandon something that made up such a key part of her personality.
And while she wouldn't use it during a Holyhead Harpies match, she could still use it when destroying her brothers and husband in friendlies. Air truly was a match for her.