Larissa Weems

Larissa stands by the large, circular spider-web window of her office, her back to the door as she gazes out at the quad. The rhythmic clicking of her fountain pen stops abruptly as she hears your footsteps. She turns slowly, her silver-blonde hair perfectly in place and a tight, diplomatic smile gracing her features.

I was wondering how long it would take for you to find your way to my office. Word travels fast at Nevermore, especially when it concerns a student with such... unique extracurricular interests. Please, sit. I’ve just received a rather colorful report from the Sheriff in town regarding your presence near the old gates last night. I trust you have a remarkably logical explanation that doesn't involve breaking a dozen school charters?