Illya Yornikovych
ILLYA YORNIKOVYCH
PUREBLOOD | DURMSTRANG | SEVENTH YEAR | SIXTEEN YEARS OLD
APPEARANCE
Like his father Sergei, he sports jet black hair and dark brown eyes that curl at the edge. His haircut is shortened on the sides and almost military like, something that his father always asks him to maintain. He stands at a decent 5'7'', tall with someone who possesses strong shoulders. But his features are softer than his father's scowl, a trait from his mother, yet he often wears a rather unreadable expression beyond his appearance.
A noticeable trait is a scar within his palm, only able to be seen if his hands are open our outstretched. His posture oozes discipline in his work and his body language speaks for himself. His voice is a steady baritone, polite and clearly well mannered if people are on his good side. He wears his uniform often and leaves the accessory pieces aside if the weather isn't fit for it. Illya always keeps his appearance in check, he isn't someone who likes to disappoint. With his uniform, he has a wand holster he keeps hidden.
PERSONALITY
Illya is well disciplined by appearance, not only because of Durmstrang but also because of his father's high expectations. He can seem distant but upon closer inspection is someone who pays sharp attentions to people and his surroundings. In most conversations, he's a polite and well-mannered student of the Institute. However, he does live a double life in some sense when it comes to how he wants to appear and who he is behind some of the layers.
He can be overtly dignified if his pride is threatened. He is at best an honest individual with opinions and to a very painful degree at times, he won't hesitate to say something if he needs to. Illya's answers are short and to the point, which is how he is many of the times. Illya is first and foremost someone who thinks before acting and his dueling ability is reinforced by it. His fatal flaw is simply his hubris at times.
He's willing to do morally gray things out of impulse, his worst being his so far year long history of thievery. Of course it's not jewelry, not usually of course. But he simply likes to talk the talk to get an item he'd want, usually by taking it when the time is right. Most of the things he takes are for him to get the other items, a potion ingredient or maybe a book for a nice quill. Illya simply likes dealing with people one way or another.
HISTORY
Illya is Sergei Yornikovych's only child, he was more or less someone who taught him everything he knew till he turned ten and had to go to Durmstrang. But before the Institute, he was always around his father and his scholarly pursuits in Transfiguration. His mother was often a topic of conversation that him and his father tip toed around for quite some time. However Sergei often put it off and as young as Illya was, didn't really understand why. While his father was working in the study of their home or was giving public lectures, he was usually around to watch and absorb his work. Time spent with his father was far and few in between, Illya took notice of this.
Sergei spent so much of his time engrossed in Transfiguration that Illya grew a little distant to him as a whole. For a few years, Sergei left Illya in the care of his grandmother after he took a professor role as the Transfiguration teacher at Hogwarts. While he was away and he was with his grandmother, he was disciplined in simply how to be a dignified wizard. On his first year at Durmstrang, his father didn't see him off but at least sent a letter. Illya had grown cold to his father already by then and decided to throw himself into his studies at the Institute to show Sergei that he was worthy of the same attention.
Their growing issue had been Sergei's neglect, not in the general care for him, but for being there for him when he needed him emotionally. He sought his father's praise often, but only got it rather subtly and never directly. When his father returned from his teaching position to go home, he was there during one of his breaks. The dinner they shared was rather quiet and both seemingly came back changed in some way. Illya had grown a lot since Sergei had last seen him and it left the older man at a loss. It was then at that point that his father realized the years he had given up on with his son. Over the break, Sergei tried his best to connect with the young boy, but was always politely disregarded as he opted to study his work.
One day, Sergei finally asked him if he simply wanted to know what happened to his mother and Illya was clearly interested. The two shared a cup of coffee as the weary man finally told him what happened. His mother Agnes had grown tired of his obsession with Transfiguration and rightfully so. When Illya was a baby, Sergei was often absent and when his wife needed him the most, he was always 'too busy'. She supported him as much as she could, but found herself always last on his list. They fought under a pretense that was caused by his need to simply achieve greatness and that hubris had caused Agnes to grow cold to Sergei. Eventually, they had separated and he quickly decided to take custody of Illya to atone for what he did. However, the cycle repeated and that was something Sergei acknowledged at the end of the story.
Illya could see that his father still loved his mother, but shrugged some of the ice between the two of them before the break could end. Since then, the two have begun to repair their relationship and trust between the both of them. His father still expects the same from him, but their home life had changed dramatically over the years for the better. Sergei transformed the plot of land near their home into a farm that Illya had since come to appreciate. Since their re-connection, he's become determined to find a similar passion that his father had - just without the obsession.
QUIDDITCH
Not a player.
APPEARANCE
Like his father Sergei, he sports jet black hair and dark brown eyes that curl at the edge. His haircut is shortened on the sides and almost military like, something that his father always asks him to maintain. He stands at a decent 5'7'', tall with someone who possesses strong shoulders. But his features are softer than his father's scowl, a trait from his mother, yet he often wears a rather unreadable expression beyond his appearance.
A noticeable trait is a scar within his palm, only able to be seen if his hands are open our outstretched. His posture oozes discipline in his work and his body language speaks for himself. His voice is a steady baritone, polite and clearly well mannered if people are on his good side. He wears his uniform often and leaves the accessory pieces aside if the weather isn't fit for it. Illya always keeps his appearance in check, he isn't someone who likes to disappoint. With his uniform, he has a wand holster he keeps hidden.
PERSONALITY
Illya is well disciplined by appearance, not only because of Durmstrang but also because of his father's high expectations. He can seem distant but upon closer inspection is someone who pays sharp attentions to people and his surroundings. In most conversations, he's a polite and well-mannered student of the Institute. However, he does live a double life in some sense when it comes to how he wants to appear and who he is behind some of the layers.
He can be overtly dignified if his pride is threatened. He is at best an honest individual with opinions and to a very painful degree at times, he won't hesitate to say something if he needs to. Illya's answers are short and to the point, which is how he is many of the times. Illya is first and foremost someone who thinks before acting and his dueling ability is reinforced by it. His fatal flaw is simply his hubris at times.
He's willing to do morally gray things out of impulse, his worst being his so far year long history of thievery. Of course it's not jewelry, not usually of course. But he simply likes to talk the talk to get an item he'd want, usually by taking it when the time is right. Most of the things he takes are for him to get the other items, a potion ingredient or maybe a book for a nice quill. Illya simply likes dealing with people one way or another.
HISTORY
Illya is Sergei Yornikovych's only child, he was more or less someone who taught him everything he knew till he turned ten and had to go to Durmstrang. But before the Institute, he was always around his father and his scholarly pursuits in Transfiguration. His mother was often a topic of conversation that him and his father tip toed around for quite some time. However Sergei often put it off and as young as Illya was, didn't really understand why. While his father was working in the study of their home or was giving public lectures, he was usually around to watch and absorb his work. Time spent with his father was far and few in between, Illya took notice of this.
Sergei spent so much of his time engrossed in Transfiguration that Illya grew a little distant to him as a whole. For a few years, Sergei left Illya in the care of his grandmother after he took a professor role as the Transfiguration teacher at Hogwarts. While he was away and he was with his grandmother, he was disciplined in simply how to be a dignified wizard. On his first year at Durmstrang, his father didn't see him off but at least sent a letter. Illya had grown cold to his father already by then and decided to throw himself into his studies at the Institute to show Sergei that he was worthy of the same attention.
Their growing issue had been Sergei's neglect, not in the general care for him, but for being there for him when he needed him emotionally. He sought his father's praise often, but only got it rather subtly and never directly. When his father returned from his teaching position to go home, he was there during one of his breaks. The dinner they shared was rather quiet and both seemingly came back changed in some way. Illya had grown a lot since Sergei had last seen him and it left the older man at a loss. It was then at that point that his father realized the years he had given up on with his son. Over the break, Sergei tried his best to connect with the young boy, but was always politely disregarded as he opted to study his work.
One day, Sergei finally asked him if he simply wanted to know what happened to his mother and Illya was clearly interested. The two shared a cup of coffee as the weary man finally told him what happened. His mother Agnes had grown tired of his obsession with Transfiguration and rightfully so. When Illya was a baby, Sergei was often absent and when his wife needed him the most, he was always 'too busy'. She supported him as much as she could, but found herself always last on his list. They fought under a pretense that was caused by his need to simply achieve greatness and that hubris had caused Agnes to grow cold to Sergei. Eventually, they had separated and he quickly decided to take custody of Illya to atone for what he did. However, the cycle repeated and that was something Sergei acknowledged at the end of the story.
Illya could see that his father still loved his mother, but shrugged some of the ice between the two of them before the break could end. Since then, the two have begun to repair their relationship and trust between the both of them. His father still expects the same from him, but their home life had changed dramatically over the years for the better. Sergei transformed the plot of land near their home into a farm that Illya had since come to appreciate. Since their re-connection, he's become determined to find a similar passion that his father had - just without the obsession.
QUIDDITCH
Not a player.
Last edited by Reid Kovacs on 19 Feb 2023, 21:36, edited 2 times in total.
"Trouble usually finds me."
Illya Yornikovych
[font=PT Serif]STATS (45)
STA 5 | STR 3 | EVA 6 | WIS 10 | AP 9 | ACC 12
FIRST YEAR (WC 536)
Fearless
SECOND YEAR (WC 748)
Perfectionist
THIRD YEAR (WC 620)
Charmer
STA 5 | STR 3 | EVA 6 | WIS 10 | AP 9 | ACC 12
FIRST YEAR (WC 536)
Fearless
Reducio
'I heard you were having issues at school, Illya.'
His brown eyes read the line over and over as he was sitting at the dining table of his grandparent's home. He didn't find it particularly jarring when his father sent that letter all the way from Hogwarts. The rest of it read along the following lines;
'You have to be strong, you cannot let your peers push you and take advantage of you. I understand this is your first year, but you cannot show your back in a school such as that.' He knew that. Of course he knew that! Illya set the letter down, tired of hearing his voice echo in his head. What could his father know about what he was going through? He was never here and he was only speaking from his experience.
Still. Slow and drawn out, his gaze shifted back to the letter as he read it over. Much of it was blurred to him, a byproduct of his skimming before it stopped at a particular line. 'Do not be afraid of your peers, you are my son and you carry my name. But Durmstrang will swallow you whole if you let yourself buckle under mere bruises and words.'
Like the jaws of a wolf, he wondered if he could survive this culling or beg to go to another school. Why couldn't he go to Hogwarts? It felt a lot nicer there, safer, and a lot less harsh than the wintry bite that the Institute offered. He wished his father took him with him, not left him here alone. But that's how he felt, very, very alone. Illya folded the paper as he stared at his lukewarm food.
Sure he met Sasha, but he couldn't rely on Sasha to be there for him all the time. People were worse than monsters to him, not that he hated people. But people could be so much more than a werewolf, do so much more damage and a bite, and maybe that's why he took solace as a reprieve from Durmstrang's strong population. But he had to make that hurt worth something, he had to make it mean something.
In the end, it began to mean something by the time he was back for the holidays. Cornered in one of the yards, the lanky boy drew his wand at the ones who tried him. If he failed now and his father knew, he'd be looked down upon further. No, he needed to prove something not only to him but to himself. His actions to him didn't need to be fair, they didn't need to be just. But it was justice to him enough when he sent that student flying back against a tree.
Despite how morally bankrupt he might have been with what he did, Illya's fearlessness was not just standing up for himself. It was the willingness to cast the spell in the first place, the power in his wand held a greater meaning to the young student. No longer would he hesitate, he wanted them to know now that he would strike first and certainly strike last. The punishment and stern talking to was well worth the effort in the end.
His brown eyes read the line over and over as he was sitting at the dining table of his grandparent's home. He didn't find it particularly jarring when his father sent that letter all the way from Hogwarts. The rest of it read along the following lines;
'You have to be strong, you cannot let your peers push you and take advantage of you. I understand this is your first year, but you cannot show your back in a school such as that.' He knew that. Of course he knew that! Illya set the letter down, tired of hearing his voice echo in his head. What could his father know about what he was going through? He was never here and he was only speaking from his experience.
Still. Slow and drawn out, his gaze shifted back to the letter as he read it over. Much of it was blurred to him, a byproduct of his skimming before it stopped at a particular line. 'Do not be afraid of your peers, you are my son and you carry my name. But Durmstrang will swallow you whole if you let yourself buckle under mere bruises and words.'
Like the jaws of a wolf, he wondered if he could survive this culling or beg to go to another school. Why couldn't he go to Hogwarts? It felt a lot nicer there, safer, and a lot less harsh than the wintry bite that the Institute offered. He wished his father took him with him, not left him here alone. But that's how he felt, very, very alone. Illya folded the paper as he stared at his lukewarm food.
Sure he met Sasha, but he couldn't rely on Sasha to be there for him all the time. People were worse than monsters to him, not that he hated people. But people could be so much more than a werewolf, do so much more damage and a bite, and maybe that's why he took solace as a reprieve from Durmstrang's strong population. But he had to make that hurt worth something, he had to make it mean something.
In the end, it began to mean something by the time he was back for the holidays. Cornered in one of the yards, the lanky boy drew his wand at the ones who tried him. If he failed now and his father knew, he'd be looked down upon further. No, he needed to prove something not only to him but to himself. His actions to him didn't need to be fair, they didn't need to be just. But it was justice to him enough when he sent that student flying back against a tree.
Despite how morally bankrupt he might have been with what he did, Illya's fearlessness was not just standing up for himself. It was the willingness to cast the spell in the first place, the power in his wand held a greater meaning to the young student. No longer would he hesitate, he wanted them to know now that he would strike first and certainly strike last. The punishment and stern talking to was well worth the effort in the end.
SECOND YEAR (WC 748)
Perfectionist
Reducio
His father was home, that was something he was still getting used to. Even more so was his willingness to push him to learn Transfiguration further. But Sergei didn't take something into account, Illya was his own scholar and Transfiguration was not the same love that he bore. It was perhaps third or fourth, depending on the day and how good he felt. Instead, what as in front of him was his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook.
"... Defense?" Illya looked up at his father as they walked out of the magical bookstore that he asked to be taken to. The young student nodded wryly as they trudged through the snow. "Is that what you want to take up?" He sounded a little offended, maybe surprised and even uncertain of Illya's answer. "Yes, if that's okay."
There was a pause before the bearded man scratched his chin, his breathing created puffs of hot air. "Yes, of course it is okay." He seemed a little dejected; his own child didn't want to study Transfiguration? It perhaps didn't come so much of a surprise the more he thought of it. He had his features when he was younger, but his mother's spirit. Illya watch his father's gaze soften.
"I want to be great at something, kind of like how you are with Transfiguration." The wizard glanced down at the boy, adjusting the caddie cap on his head as he arched a brow. "Great, hm? How great?" Illya nodded, hoping he'd appreciate the honesty he was even sparing the old man right now. He was still bitter about how long he's been gone, but found it hard to stay upset for so long.
"I want to practice spell casting during the holidays, get better at them." Sergei nodded, moving his shoulder as they their boots crunched in the snow. "You cannot cast magic at your age outside of school though, did you know? You'll need more training rather than just something over the holidays, Illya." Illya nodded and slung the bag over his shoulder. "I'll just ask your help with wand movements and pronunciation if that's fine?"
"Yes. Plus you need help with your casting sometimes, you're a little sloppy." Sergei agreed, slipping his hands into his pea coat. "But let's get you that haircut first before we go home. Then we will practice. Four hours a day, with breaks in between. How does it sound?" Illya perked up at the tutelage his father was willing to offer. He nodded vigorously and followed the gray haired man to the barbershop.
"Good, I expect the best or nothing."
By the time they were home, they had a quick dinner and Illya was given a stick, quick carved by his father.
"No, no, no." Sergei interjected. He leaned forward and placed his hand on the fake wand. "That was sloppy casting, Illya. Do it again, slower this time, then at a normal speed. I do not want that thing you did with your wrist." The boy's annoyance was seeping through, but he kept at it till he got it right. Sergei was hard on him, but it was his only way of supporting.
"Why Defense?" the man asked so suddenly. Illya stopped mid cast and shrugged. "I want to protect myself." Sergei opened his mouth and then nodded slowly. "That is a worthy cause." Illya held the wand as he enunciated the spells he was taught in his years. "I want to protect others too, friends, maybe you one day."
"I'm perfectly capable of handling myself." the man mused. "You don't know that all the time and neither will I, if I have the chance to do something, I'd do so." Illya spoke, full of resolve. He punctuated it with a thrust of his wand, practicing one of the spells he learned in his recent classes. "Stop, you're doing it wrong." Sergei stepped forth and pulled out his own wand. He stood beside his son and slowly waved it to show. "Again."
Illya tried it. "Wrong, again." He felt his eye twitch as he followed suite. "There, good. Now I'm your opponent." Sergei faced his son, wand drawn. "Remember wand movements, do you understand why?" Illya shook his head. "There is a chance for you to know what they will cast next. For example ..." Sergei moved his wand slowly.
The young boy stared in curiosity. "Disarm." A smile graced his father's features as he stopped and did another movement. "Knockback." The older man beamed radiantly as he continued testing Illya that night and throughout the holidays. He gave him scenarios, trying to have him understand what to do in different situations. Illya knew what he wanted to do now at Durmstrang.
"We will do a mock duel tomorrow in the morning, wake up at the break of dawn. Understood?" Illya nodded as he held the fake wand. "Yes, sir."
"... Defense?" Illya looked up at his father as they walked out of the magical bookstore that he asked to be taken to. The young student nodded wryly as they trudged through the snow. "Is that what you want to take up?" He sounded a little offended, maybe surprised and even uncertain of Illya's answer. "Yes, if that's okay."
There was a pause before the bearded man scratched his chin, his breathing created puffs of hot air. "Yes, of course it is okay." He seemed a little dejected; his own child didn't want to study Transfiguration? It perhaps didn't come so much of a surprise the more he thought of it. He had his features when he was younger, but his mother's spirit. Illya watch his father's gaze soften.
"I want to be great at something, kind of like how you are with Transfiguration." The wizard glanced down at the boy, adjusting the caddie cap on his head as he arched a brow. "Great, hm? How great?" Illya nodded, hoping he'd appreciate the honesty he was even sparing the old man right now. He was still bitter about how long he's been gone, but found it hard to stay upset for so long.
"I want to practice spell casting during the holidays, get better at them." Sergei nodded, moving his shoulder as they their boots crunched in the snow. "You cannot cast magic at your age outside of school though, did you know? You'll need more training rather than just something over the holidays, Illya." Illya nodded and slung the bag over his shoulder. "I'll just ask your help with wand movements and pronunciation if that's fine?"
"Yes. Plus you need help with your casting sometimes, you're a little sloppy." Sergei agreed, slipping his hands into his pea coat. "But let's get you that haircut first before we go home. Then we will practice. Four hours a day, with breaks in between. How does it sound?" Illya perked up at the tutelage his father was willing to offer. He nodded vigorously and followed the gray haired man to the barbershop.
"Good, I expect the best or nothing."
By the time they were home, they had a quick dinner and Illya was given a stick, quick carved by his father.
"No, no, no." Sergei interjected. He leaned forward and placed his hand on the fake wand. "That was sloppy casting, Illya. Do it again, slower this time, then at a normal speed. I do not want that thing you did with your wrist." The boy's annoyance was seeping through, but he kept at it till he got it right. Sergei was hard on him, but it was his only way of supporting.
"Why Defense?" the man asked so suddenly. Illya stopped mid cast and shrugged. "I want to protect myself." Sergei opened his mouth and then nodded slowly. "That is a worthy cause." Illya held the wand as he enunciated the spells he was taught in his years. "I want to protect others too, friends, maybe you one day."
"I'm perfectly capable of handling myself." the man mused. "You don't know that all the time and neither will I, if I have the chance to do something, I'd do so." Illya spoke, full of resolve. He punctuated it with a thrust of his wand, practicing one of the spells he learned in his recent classes. "Stop, you're doing it wrong." Sergei stepped forth and pulled out his own wand. He stood beside his son and slowly waved it to show. "Again."
Illya tried it. "Wrong, again." He felt his eye twitch as he followed suite. "There, good. Now I'm your opponent." Sergei faced his son, wand drawn. "Remember wand movements, do you understand why?" Illya shook his head. "There is a chance for you to know what they will cast next. For example ..." Sergei moved his wand slowly.
The young boy stared in curiosity. "Disarm." A smile graced his father's features as he stopped and did another movement. "Knockback." The older man beamed radiantly as he continued testing Illya that night and throughout the holidays. He gave him scenarios, trying to have him understand what to do in different situations. Illya knew what he wanted to do now at Durmstrang.
"We will do a mock duel tomorrow in the morning, wake up at the break of dawn. Understood?" Illya nodded as he held the fake wand. "Yes, sir."
THIRD YEAR (WC 620)
Charmer
Reducio
[/font]By the time he was entering his fourth year, he finessed a silent swagger that he began to perfect the year prior. It turns out, being charming was quite the useful skill to have when it came to what he wanted. Even his father noticed and seemed a little confused by it. "Your clothes, they're ..." Illya arched his brow in curiosity. "You dress rather sharply, Illya."
The student smiled and wrung his wrist as he straightened his posture. "I figured if I'm to make something of myself, I should look good while doing so." Sergei, who frankly looked a little worse for wear since he had gotten a cold arched his own brow behind the mug he was drinking from. His son seemed to ooze a different type of confidence now, he didn't know how to feel about it. "Are you setting yourself up for a girl, hm? I was about your age when —"
"N-no, no, father." Illya interjected. "I'm just uh ... I'm simply trying to be a gentleman." Sergei stared at him with an arched brow before he slowly drank from his mug again. "... Definitely pining for a girl." he concluded. Illya rolled his eyes at his old man. "I'm going to get a haircut, I'll be back. Try not to choke on your coffee before then, old man." Sergei waved him away in amusement. "Let's talk about that girl you like so much when you get back." he guffawed.
"It's not like that!"
"Aye, aye. With how you were speaking to the girl in the bookstore last week, yes, it certainly must not be 'like that'. Ah, yes, could you help me find a book? I've been wanting it for days! Oh, you have nice eyes, they remind me of poplar trees in —" Sergei had pitched his voice to mock his son.
"I wanted a discount!" Illya shouted, closing the door behind him. Sergei wheezed to himself, slapping his knee as he cleared his throat. "Ah, to be young and in love." Illya on the other hand found uses for his little chats. He got that discount from that girl, but at school, it allowed him to get his hands on certain things.
Lacking a potion ingredient? Chat up someone in his class, he was bound to get it one way or another. In some instances, he simply wanted to talk to someone long enough for them not to notice what he was entirely doing. In some cases, Illya simply wanted something of theirs. While he didn't do it often, he's had small instances of being able to steal something.
It was in one case, someone's expensive quill. He had been eyeing it a few times in class till he finally got the route to speak to the girl. No harm, no foul, except maybe one stolen item. Illya learned the valuable lesson of giving someone their time, building a bridge he needed just for a second. Listening, observing, and looking for cues were all important after all.
At the mention of her interest in magical creatures, he asked if she simply had a book. Perfect.
She obliged him easy, by turning away to get a compendium in her bag that she recently got. In exchange, Illya's sleight of hand allowed him to take the quill from her desk and into the inner pocket of his jacket. That ink stain was an issue in the end though. But she never asked as he only simply continued the conversation with her, asking genuine questions to stray her further.
He frankly didn't use his charms for anything good. The student traded the nice quill for a set of ingredients for a particular potion he wanted to brew. That was all well and good in the end. It sometimes got him out of situations even more so. Chatting up his assailants enough into a chat, only to draw his wand and knock them both back into the dirt path. Illya certainly found his uses for it.
The student smiled and wrung his wrist as he straightened his posture. "I figured if I'm to make something of myself, I should look good while doing so." Sergei, who frankly looked a little worse for wear since he had gotten a cold arched his own brow behind the mug he was drinking from. His son seemed to ooze a different type of confidence now, he didn't know how to feel about it. "Are you setting yourself up for a girl, hm? I was about your age when —"
"N-no, no, father." Illya interjected. "I'm just uh ... I'm simply trying to be a gentleman." Sergei stared at him with an arched brow before he slowly drank from his mug again. "... Definitely pining for a girl." he concluded. Illya rolled his eyes at his old man. "I'm going to get a haircut, I'll be back. Try not to choke on your coffee before then, old man." Sergei waved him away in amusement. "Let's talk about that girl you like so much when you get back." he guffawed.
"It's not like that!"
"Aye, aye. With how you were speaking to the girl in the bookstore last week, yes, it certainly must not be 'like that'. Ah, yes, could you help me find a book? I've been wanting it for days! Oh, you have nice eyes, they remind me of poplar trees in —" Sergei had pitched his voice to mock his son.
"I wanted a discount!" Illya shouted, closing the door behind him. Sergei wheezed to himself, slapping his knee as he cleared his throat. "Ah, to be young and in love." Illya on the other hand found uses for his little chats. He got that discount from that girl, but at school, it allowed him to get his hands on certain things.
Lacking a potion ingredient? Chat up someone in his class, he was bound to get it one way or another. In some instances, he simply wanted to talk to someone long enough for them not to notice what he was entirely doing. In some cases, Illya simply wanted something of theirs. While he didn't do it often, he's had small instances of being able to steal something.
It was in one case, someone's expensive quill. He had been eyeing it a few times in class till he finally got the route to speak to the girl. No harm, no foul, except maybe one stolen item. Illya learned the valuable lesson of giving someone their time, building a bridge he needed just for a second. Listening, observing, and looking for cues were all important after all.
At the mention of her interest in magical creatures, he asked if she simply had a book. Perfect.
She obliged him easy, by turning away to get a compendium in her bag that she recently got. In exchange, Illya's sleight of hand allowed him to take the quill from her desk and into the inner pocket of his jacket. That ink stain was an issue in the end though. But she never asked as he only simply continued the conversation with her, asking genuine questions to stray her further.
He frankly didn't use his charms for anything good. The student traded the nice quill for a set of ingredients for a particular potion he wanted to brew. That was all well and good in the end. It sometimes got him out of situations even more so. Chatting up his assailants enough into a chat, only to draw his wand and knock them both back into the dirt path. Illya certainly found his uses for it.
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