Luckily, Henrik had been with him long enough to understand key words and phrases spoken in Parseltongue. Tom had a bit of a habit of switching between languages when they were alone so Henrik had long decided to learn. Henrik could remember the first time he’d heard Tom hiss. It was a vivid memory for him, just like every other memory associated with his soul-bonded. It had just been a month after Henrik arrived at the orphanage. He and Tom were already as close as could be. They had shared a room together (because no one had wanted to risk Tom killing one of the kids in their sleep) and on that one night, a snake had somehow snuck its way under Henrik’s bed. It was a fairly young one, only a few weeks old, seeking shelter away from the thundering storm outside. Tom, spurred on by Henrik’s bleeding heart, agreed to care for the hatchling until it was old enough to live on its own. That decision didn’t end well, all because of a little snitch who had sold them out to the matron. Henrik had taken the brunt of the punishment, much to Tom’s displeasure. But if anyone asked, Tom had nothing to do with the fact that both matron and the snitch suffered severe food poisoning for the next couple of weeks.