[@KatherinWinter]

Less than thirty minutes later the roar of a motorcycle engine heralded the arrival of Agent Curwen. He parked just outside the school gates, whipped off his helmet, and surveyed the scene. Rows of students huddled together in a sort of organized chaos, a roar of hushed conversation drifting over to him. A few turned to look as he stepped off his bike and knelt to examine the invisible line where the sidewalk ended and the school began. If the wards had been shattered than he would be able to catch a tell-tale sighs of a busted spell, but he feared that would not be the case. 

Demons weren't just something that hung around in his experience. They were something that had to be called up, and there were incredible risks involved in doing so. If an inexperienced practitioner, a stupid teenager that had stumbled on some knowledge man wasn't meant to know for example, had summoned this one it could have done any number of things to weasel around their defenses and taken their body for its own. That was his real fear: that it had managed to smuggle its way past the wards hidden inside a human body and had leaped once it was inside.

After satisfying his curiosity at the threshold and stood up and strode onto the grounds, calling out, "I need to speak to whosoever's in charge here," in the booming, authoritative tone he took with his own students. 

(Can Curwen tell anything about the situation by examining the wards? Were they punched through or evaded, and if they were punched through was there any demonic essence left on the jagged edges he could examine?)