The book wasn’t telling the story. It was remembering it. That night, in the Gryffindor common room, Harry, Ron, and Hermione gathered around the fire. Ron was skeptical. “So it’s a book about our first year? Boring. I already lived it. Nearly died in it, actually.”
“But look,” Hermione whispered, turning a page. “It says: ‘Harry Potter nunca había oído hablar de Hogwarts cuando las cartas comenzaron a caer por la chimenea.’ That’s correct. But watch…” harry potter y la piedra filosofal libro libro
And the strangest part? Years later, when his own son, Albus, asked him, “Dad, what really happened with the Sorcerer’s Stone?” Harry smiled and said, “Which version would you like to hear?” The book wasn’t telling the story