"What are you doing in here?" Harry blurted, even as he lowered the wand self-consciously, aware that he was pointing it at a teacher. At least one whom had never tortured, attacked, or attempted to kill him.
He had only glanced around the room, but hadn't seen anyone, and had checked for listening charms. Given the fact that the room was only dimly lit by the candles that the house elves maintained all over Hogwarts, he had made the stupid assumption no one was around.
He berated himself mentally for the assumption that no one was hiding.
"This is my classroom, Mr. Flamel," the diminutive professor replied dryly. "I hardly think it a surprise that I occasionally can be found here. I was grading papers when two students decided to pay me a visit."
Harry bit his tongue, nearly hard enough to draw blood and restrained his urge to curse. Of course, given the professor's height he needed to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. And given the professor's acknowledged goblin heritage, Harry was skeptical that any memory charm would work to erase the conversation he had no doubt overheard.
They didn't on normal goblins. All they did was piss goblins off something fierce.
The things you learn while on the run.
The Goblins also… generally did not take that sort of thing philosophically. Usually their response involved sharp weapons, evisceration, and what he assumed was a lot of cursing in gobbledygook.