Oliver couldn't help but laugh a little at Tracey's comment and then the retraction of it. "I miss it being warm though," Oliver said. "There's only so much you can do outside when it's this cold." Trying to fly into the wind when it was frigid was one of the worst experiences, he was convinced. Running was one thing, but trying to do much else was incredibly difficult. Flying on days like this always made him feel as if he couldn't breathe at all.
"Huh," Oliver said, the news more thoughtful than anything else. Of course, he had some understanding of the Muggle world, perhaps a little more than most pureblood wizards, but often he forgot to question how things like the paintings worked. They just did. It was magic. He had never really put any thought into why they were different from the still paintings that Muggles made other than the fact that the Muggles' version was rather boring.
"There isn't anyone else you could ask?" Oliver asked after a moment. He was certain that Tracey had probably considered all the angles already; there probably wasn't much he could offer in the way of help, but he wasn't going to pretend that he wasn't interested.