"Oh Albus, you can't be serious," she said exasperatedly following her husband around the house as he shrank things to put into a lunch-box sized suitcase.
"Minerva, I have to! The draft is for everyone! I can't escape it! The Wizarding Council decided to apply it to us too!"
"But what am I to do! The children, Albus!"
"I'll hire you help,"
"I don't trust house-elves!"
He stopped and turned to her, his blue eyes pleading but patient.
"Please Minerva, don't make this any harder than it already is,"
He grasped her hand and pulled it to his lips, kissing it then pulled her against his chest.
"Minerva, you and the children mean more to me than anything in the world. This is why I have to go. I love you so much which makes me safer than anyone out there,"
The Wizarding Parliament had indeed decided to make the draft apply to wizards as well upon the request of the Prime Minister. This was one thing that the wizards couldn't ignore. Other wars had been different. They were without bombs and trenches. Wizards could avoid them easily with defensive charms. Besides, wizards always had their own wars raging. But this, this was different. German, Austrian and French wizards had joined in the Great War so Britain decided that it should do the same and it became a magical and muggle war only now, the wizards were forced to play by muggle rules. They joined the muggle army and for the first time, they were given guns and muggle uniforms. It was a sad time in both worlds.
"Our country is in danger and therefore, you are in danger. I'm fighting for you, for the children, for the school… for everyone," he said looking into her eyes which were brimming with tears. He pushed them away gently and picked up his bag and continued packing. He went to the potions cabinet picked out several freshly filled tubes of brightly colored potions.
"Don't worry, I'm going to wear a dragon skin suit under my uniform so I'll be safe from gunfire and… do you remember my good friend Nicholas Flammel (A/N: for my good buddy Isrufel) the alchemist? Well, he and I have been working on an antidote for the poison gas. See these? These all will protect me from the different types and no one will know,"
One of the greatest terrors of the Great War: the poison gas that hung on the dewy fields in venomous billowing clouds. Phosgene choked whole troops of healthy soldiers to their deaths. Chlorine seared the lungs of its breather. Mustard gas caused horrid blisters wherever it touched inside.
"I'll have to inject it straight into my blood stream, but it will keep me safe. Look… I've fought in other battles… I've fought for you before and this won't be the last…," he said solemnly. He hugged her close to his chest as if he were never to let go, "I love you so much," emotion straining through his voice, tears flowing.
"Don't cry, Albus… don't. One of us has to be strong," she said reaching up to cup his cheek. He kissed the hand that so tenderly offered its comfort. The silent tears stopped and he swept her up in his arms and, while passionately kissing her, led her to their bedroom where they said good-bye as married lovers do: in whispered groans and gentle caresses.