On a south-facing balcony of Hogwarts Castle, two figures stood in silence: young Jerry and the tall Grindelwald. Jerry was tall for his age, but beside Grindelwald's imposing six-foot-two frame, he looked much smaller.
"Looks like we're in for another storm tonight!" Grindelwald watched lightning flicker over the Black Lake as thunder rumbled. He stretched, his voice deep.
Jerry said nothing. Grindelwald's words had done nothing to answer his questions; they had only made them weigh more heavily on him. The two fell into a deep silence as the night and the promise of rain gathered around them.
"Well, you're every bit as stubborn as your mother, Mandy." Grindelwald sighed softly, as though recalling years gone by.
"You must think some of the decisions Albus and I made were the ravings of senile old men. Sending you to an Orphanage when you still had family alive—and an Orphanage run by the Apostles, at that."
"Have you ever wondered why Albus and I agreed so readily not to interfere with your choices when you were only a first-year, still just a child?"
Jerry nodded uncertainly. He had wondered about that, especially why those two old men had sent the original Jerry to an Orphanage when they were both still alive!
Even sending him to Godric's Hollow to be raised by old Bathilda Bagshot would have been better than an Orphanage!
"Though Albus and I are your grandfathers," Grindelwald said, helplessness and regret in his voice. He paused, then continued, "there are many things we can do nothing about. We could only trust your parents' decision, including their decision to send you to the Apostles' Orphanage!"
"Albus and I both opposed it fiercely. Even old Nicolas Flamel offered to have him and his wife raise you!"
"Oh, you may not know this,