Virgil was named after the Roman poet. Exiled and alone, Dante finds Virgil, who guides him through the deep and dark worlds where his greatest love and muse, Beatrice, cannot reach him. Virgil is the last piece of hope and light and meaning in a world that does not contain anything worth admiring. There is no beauty in the Inferno. Or at least, that's Virgil's impression- he prefers reading proper philosophy when pure fantasy isn't an option. Pure fantasy, luckily, is usually there for him. He disappears into those books, leaving playing cards strewn about their manor. He uses them as bookmarks, but they double as tools of the trade- Virgil is an amateur magician. Whatever his affinity is, it has to do with small things. Coins, cards, anything that could fit in the palm of his hand- Quentin can make it disappear.
His greatest interest is not the martial arts training his dad forces on him, or all those hours spent practicing with a knife; Virgil does not have the coordination for any of that. He prefers poring over all kinds of books in dead languages. He reads about the founding of the Scholomance, about the Salvatore family's personal spells, developed in the years since their exile (?) from an Italian enclave that might no longer exist. All of Virgil's knowledge of his new world will be out of date, but he doesn't mind. It excites him- he finds a treatise on the void that enraptures him. There has been so little dedicated study of it, because of the dangers of getting too close, but Virgil dreams about what they might find in there one day. Unlimited potential- ancient civilizations that learned more than they ever could, hiding and waiting in a fragile little bubble somewhere inside...
Dad makes him practice all the things he needs to practice. He worries, and frets, and does all the other things any parent would do. He fortifies the house- ancient wards that neither of them will ever be able to recreate if they break, but they've still held up. It's impossible for the mals to get to him. He could stay here forever, if he wanted to. Except...the wards are wearing thin. Virgil finds the blueprints, despite his dad's attempts to hide them from him. Maybe it's the rebellious streak he picks up after his first suicide attempt, but as soon as he catches wind that his father is keeping secrets, he has to uncover them. So he finds it: a series of sketches over a period of five decades, which make it clear that the wards on this place have been wearing down for every consecutive year a young wizard spends inside the walls. Virgil needs to attend the Scholomance, because otherwise he'll just be inviting the mals to destroy the wards their ancestors worked so hard on.
After that, his dad barely puts up a fight. Maybe it's the second suicide attempt- it's not like he can really stop Virgil from dying here, either. Virgil wants to apologize- sometimes, when he doesn't want to pick a fight. Whose fault is this, anyway? Virgil never decided to exist; that's all on his parents. Not like mom could bother to stick around; why should he bother to resist the inevitable? But he has to. He has to, because you don't just get to die when you want to. He needs to die at the right moment. So he packs accordingly. He's small- underweight, practically sickly- and it's easy enough to ask his dad to shave his head- his dad wants to give him his best chance at making it out. But everything he's taking inside is for other people. Whatever he thinks they're going to need. When it's his time, Virgil knows how he wants it to end. The music should swell, the chapter should come to a close, and his death should mean something. The feeling in his stomach as he leaves is not that different than how he feels most of the time.