Jack Rhodes has always insisted that destiny found him behind a recycling bin, which is fitting for a man who would later describe himself as a Part Time Wizard, Full Time Moron. Born in a perfectly ordinary town to parents who were blissfully unaware of prophecy, Jack showed early signs of magical aptitude by accidentally setting his socks on fire while attempting basic multiplication.
His childhood was a blur of half-finished spellbooks, misunderstood teachers, and a persistent belief that he was “basically chosen.” While other children learned responsibility, Jack learned that chanting Latin backwards sometimes made things worse. This did not discourage him. Instead, it fueled a lifelong confidence unsupported by evidence, a trait that would define both his wizardry and his many, many mistakes.
Jack’s formal magical education was brief and largely self-inflicted. After being politely asked to leave a correspondence course in beginner sorcery, he declared himself a part time wizard, reasoning that mastery was optional but enthusiasm was not. His spells work roughly forty percent of the time, which he considers a passing grade, especially when no one is permanently turned into furniture.
When not practicing magic, Jack leans fully into his other title. As a full time moron, he approaches life with fearless incompetence. He once tried to fix a wand with duct tape and optimism. Another time, he attempted to summon a familiar and got a raccoon with attitude problems. Jack insists these are learning experiences, though the raccoon has never forgiven him.
Despite his flaws, Jack is strangely endearing. He helps when he can, apologizes when things explode, and genuinely believes that magic should make life more fun, even if it occasionally sets off the smoke alarm. Friends describe him as loyal, enthusiastic, and best supervised. Enemies mostly describe him as confusing and mildly hazardous.
Jack’s philosophy is simple and poorly thought out. He believes that trying matters more than succeeding, and that confidence can substitute for planning if applied aggressively enough. This worldview has led him into trouble, out of trouble, and directly back into trouble again, usually in the same afternoon. He calls this “the rhythm of adventure.”
Today, Jack Rhodes continues to practice magic on his own flexible schedule, usually evenings and weekends, or whenever inspiration strikes and nothing flammable is nearby. He remains committed to becoming a better wizard, or at least a more efficient moron. Until then, he carries on, wand slightly bent, heart in the right place, and absolutely no idea what he’s doing.
